Approaching Dawn
by Kristen Deckard
Summary: This story picks up after King's cage. *Spoilers ahead, stop reading now.* Mare and Cal have split, and the Gaurd works diligently to end the Regime of the Boy King Maven. What happens when Mare confronts him a final time? This story contains strong language, violence, and sexual content. Some of the themes are not suitable for all readers. Tread carefully, my darlings.
1. reunion

**Author's Note:**  
 **I have chosen to give the story an overall rating of M because several of the themes I am going to explore are sensitive for some readers, and will not be suitable for all readers. I will be labeling each chapter with trigger warnings as applicable. This chapter features strong language, Sexual content,**

 **If you are not caught up in the series, there are Spoilers ahead. : )**

 **I claim no rights to the characters presented in this work of fiction. They Belong Wholly to Victoria Aveyard.**

 **Happy reading darlings!**

* * *

 **Cal POV**

"Where is the Barrow Girl?" The general's question pulls me out of my head. Briefings are the only time I got to see her anymore. Even though it is something akin to torture, I look forward to just being in her presence. She Never looks at me anymore, even when she catches me looking at her, she looks through me. I hate it. I want more than anything to throw myself on her mercy, to be the man she wants me to be; but the needs of the country have to outweigh my own.

"She is training for a mission and will not be joining us today." Something in Premiere Davidson's tone piques my suspicions. There are several missions in the planning stages, but no one told me that Mare had been assigned to any of them. I level my gaze at him.

"What mission?" Farley doesn't know either? Hmm, interesting. I take a steadying breath. The thought of Mare on the battlefield still terrifies me. Not because she isn't capable—she is the single most capable woman I have ever met; but because the loss of her would still devastate me. It takes a few more seconds for my pulse to return to normal. "Why wasn't I told she volunteered for a mission?"

"Because she set conditions to her recruitment." Of course, she did. "The first of which being that her family not be told."

"I see none of her family here." There is anger in her voice. I am shocked, Farley rarely lets her emotions show through her careful mask of control. An even rarer still, does she let her regard for Mare cloud her judgment.

"I do, General Farley." He glances quickly between Farley and me. I wince. Mare had made it clear on the balcony a few weeks ago that I would never be her family. It is a wound that festers still, and that single implication ripped it open anew. My feelings for her are still a raw nerve ending, a live wire that sends a shock through me whenever her name brushes against me. I suppose that is only fitting, though. "Now, can we get on with the briefing?"

It is a short briefing, just updates on supplies and news that is steadily coming in from Norta. I am only half listening and contribute even less to the discussion. I am preoccupied with trying to figure out which mission Mare was recruited for. I even toyed with the idea of joining that mission, so I could watch her back, even if it is from afar.

When the meeting adjourns, I get up to leave, but a heavy hand falls on my shoulder.

"Calore, a word please?" I oblige, allowing the room to empty before I say anything.

"Premiere Davidson, what can I do for you?"

"Actually, there is something I can do for you." I raise an eyebrow at him. "It has to do with the mission Miss Barrow was recruited for." He has my full attention now, and he knows it. "She leaves tonight; I thought I would give you a chance to say goodbye."

"There is no mission scheduled for departure toda—" That bastard is sending her after Maven. The temperature in the room rises rapidly and white hot flame dances in the palm of my hand. A blue wall of energy erupts between us. His shield. "Where is she?" There is a feral edge to my voice. I want to punch the smug look right off his face. I will tear him limb from limb if he does anything that results in Mare being killed or captured again.

"Training in Gymnasium four."

I tear across the compound at a full run not stopping for anyone or anything. When I reach the doors, I stop cold. I can't approach her like this. She will already be furious that I know; I can't go in there flushed and riled up.

I slip in through a side entrance quietly. I want to find Mare before she sees me. The gym appears to be empty; maybe she is in one of the practice areas. When I do find her, I am perplexed by what I see. I lean against the doorframe and watch her. There is a web of strings crisscrossing the room, the ends tied to eight-foot poles placed around the room in a rough square shape. There is a bell tied to every line. I couldn't make it through that mess if I tried. She takes a deep breath and begins. I am transfixed as I watch her move through it. Her lithe body twisting and stretching, bending in ways that cause a silver flush to rise on my neck. I know exactly how flexible she is and it takes a great deal of effort not to think about her in my bed. The way she moves is more like a dance than anything else. The grace with which she turns and contorts is unlike anything I have ever seen. Such long sleek lines for such a small woman. Her strength and confidence are mesmerizing. She is close to the other side of the room now, and her seeing me is inevitable, but I can't focus long enough to come up with anything intelligent to say my thoughts and my eyes stray to places they shouldn't. My control is simply an illusion right now. It catches me off guard when she speaks.

"A gentleman announces his presence when he enters a room. And he sure as hell doesn't stare open-mouthed at a lady's ass. Lady Blonos would be appalled if she could see the Crown Prince now." Her words are scathing. I'm not surprised by them, but they do hurt. "I suppose you wouldn't need to announce yourself, though since the temperature in the room rises ten degrees when you look at me; fifteen when you're aroused." How can she be so crass about our relationship?

"Mare, I—"

"I'm busy. What do you want, Cal?" I drag my hands through my hair and sigh. I watch her bend backward over the last set of strings and flip her legs over, landing delicately before turning away. She hadn't made a single sound as she made her way through her impossible obstacle course. It's the thief in her. It guides her instincts better than any of the training I have given her.

"You're incredible." She whips around to face me. The flash of despair in her eyes could have killed me, but it disappears too quickly, replaced by a mask of cool indifference.

"And you are stalling. I'm glad we cleared that up." When she turns away from me, I notice that she is wearing the little red stone earring with the rest of them. It has been weeks since I saw her with her hair up, but I figured when she pulled away from me, that was it. That she would push away everything that reminded her of me the way that I did with her.

"Please, don't go." I have to squeeze the words out of my constricted throat. She lifts her head out of the towel in her hands and looks at my face for the time in weeks. "Please, Mare." The pleading note in voice unsettles me. There is only one other time in my life I have begged for something, and the memory of it haunts my dreams still. The blood and misery eat away at me.

"Cal." She makes my heart ache with a single word. I know the same thought struck her. She was there, witness to my weakest moment. Then like a switch, she is cold again. "Davidson wasn't supposed to tell you about the mission until I was gone."

"So, you would rather keep secrets from me rather than face me? That is real big of you Mare." I'm angry.

"I wanted to avoid this." She motions between us. "It's stupid and pointless."

"So is going after Maven right now. He and his new Queen are at Whitefire, surrounded by Sentinels and legions of soldiers. Archaeon is not safe for anyone, least of all you." I lower my voice. I hadn't realized I was yelling. I rarely did it and never at her. "If they catch you..." My voice breaks.

" _If_ they catch me, they won't get anything out of me." I don't miss the insinuation or the bitterness in her tone. "And Maven won't kill me, especially if I return to him willingly." I thought my heart was already broken, but that pain was nothing compared to the shattered feeling in my chest at this moment.

"Are you doing this just to satisfy your need for vengeance?" I'm struggling to keep the emotion out of my voice. "Because killing him won't make it hurt any less. You should know that better than anyone. Killing Elara didn't—"

"Don't." Her eyes flash dangerously. I love her fire, but today, it burns me. I raise my hands in surrender. I don't want to fight with her. I just want her to be safe; to come home.

"If you won't hear it from me, at least talk to Farley about it. She lost him too." It was a low blow, and I regret it as soon as I close my mouth.

"I have heard it. I have heard it from everyone. I don't want to discuss it anymore."

"I'm just trying to have a meaningful conversation with you about this, Mare. I'm sorry I brought her up, but the thought of you being killed or captured... He can't have you, not again. I would be inconsolable; there would be nothing left of me if... if you..." The words die in my throat. I looked away from her while I was talking and didn't notice her move toward me. Just like the night we met, I didn't see her until she touched me. Only this time she wasn't trying to pick my pocket. I instead, she slid her arms around me and buried her face in my shirt just as she had a hundred times before. I hold onto her as if it will save her life and in the back of my mind, I hope it will. I press a kiss into her hair causing her to stiffen in my arms. I chide myself; too much.

"I'm not just doing this for me, for my vengeance. I'm doing it for you too. "

"For me?" Does she think I want this for her? To make her responsible for another death? The lives she has taken already weigh on her mind. I have never wanted to add more to it, especially a weight as heavy as my little brother.

"Yes. I want you to achieve your goals. To be happy even though I wasn't enough to do that for you." She knows exactly how to land a blow. "If being King will make you happy, I will help you make it happen." I'm at a loss. I am used to Mare's selfish need to protect herself. To her need to sacrifice to save another life. But this. This is new.

"Being King will not make me happy. It is a duty that will make me miserable. It will be a challenge, a constant stream of sacrifices, a thankless job with no reprieve. I am responsible for this country as all my fathers have been before me." I pause and lift her chin with two fingers. I want her to see me when I say this. "Mare, you are my joy. Even when we were at each other's throats, I was happier than before I met you. You have always been enough." I catch one of her tears on my thumb and brush it away. I'd give almost anything to kiss her right now.

"Please don't... I'm not strong enough to say no again." Her voice is small and strained. It cuts right through me.

"You've already given me your answer and your reasons. I won't bring it up again." I swallow hard. "I've missed you." She buries her face in my shirt again in response. At least she has stopped crying. I feel so useless when she cries. "When do you leave?"

"Wheels up at sundown." It's only a whisper against my chest.

"You should go get some rest. You'll need your strength if you are going to face Maven."

"I should," She pulls out of my arms. I feel cold without her. Her fingers close around mine. "But I would much rather go take a hot shower and talk you through the details of operation KingMaker. The look in her eyes reduces me to ash. A smoldering gaze of melting chocolate imploring me to touch her. By my colors, I want to touch her.

"Mare, are you sure this is what you want?" She nods, slowly, deliberately. I let her pull me towards the locker room, a shiver of anticipation running down my spine.

* * *

As soon as the door shuts, she shoves me back against it, pressing herself against me kissing me with a ferocity that I did not know she possessed outside of the battlefield. She already has her fingers wrapped around my belt buckle. Pulling me closer. She catches my lip in her teeth as she grinds against me. I close my eyes; a feeble attempt to keep control of myself. I have to make a conscious effort to keep from touching her right now; there is no doubt in me that I will burn her. My breathing is heavy and ragged. Her giggle pulls me back to her. Mare does not giggle.

"What?"

"Your heat is warping the metal."

"Yeah, well, you're sexy as hell and teasing the fuck out me right now. What do you want from me?" Her brown eyes glitter and a smirk drips from her lips. I can't help but wonder what she has in store for me. She licks her lips.

"Complete submission." I raise my eyebrows.

"Excuse me?"

"I want the future King of Norta to bend to me every whim—to obey my every command— to fall to his knees before me and ask for the privilege to touch me." I am a Crown Prince, a general, I will be King, But I will be damned if I am not also melting wax in her hands. I am hers.

The tile is unyielding as my knees hit them. The look on her face as she looks at me is an odd mix of desire and sadness. I wish I knew where her head was. I know she is with me, but I can't tell where her sadness is coming from. I suppose it doesn't matter if she is sad about the time we lost or the time we are going to lose.

"Mare?" Her thoughts come back to the present, and she blinks a couple of times. I offer her a smile, and to my surprise, she gives me one in return.

"Yes, My King?" There is a sweetness in her voice that betrays her desire to dominate me, addressing me as she would, were she one of my people. I could play this game for the rest of my life.

"I am yours to command, But I beg you; allow me to touch you, to please you." She pretends to consider my request, and for the briefest moment, I am afraid she will deny me.

"Yes." I reach for her. Standing again, I put my hands in a modest position on her waist. I move to kiss her, but she puts a finger to my lips. "There are conditions. Don't be gentle and make me scream."

"Done." She pushes me against the door again reaching over to lock it before ripping my shirt open. I hear the buttons hit the floor and scatter as I kiss her. I force her to open her mouth and let me explore her again. Our sparring always held an edge of sexual tension, but we had never crossed the line into hard, fast, verging on violent sex until now. I would be lying to myself if I said that everything that was happening between us right now wasn't a turn on. The fight for control between us is hot and furious. I love every second of it. I pull her shirt off over her head. She isn't wearing a bra today, How Had I missed that? I shrug off my own shirt. Nothing compares to the feel of her skin on mine.

I draw my kisses down her neck and lift her. She wraps her legs around me, and I turn us so that her back is to the wall. Her fingernails tear into the skin of my back. Mingled with the pain is the light kiss of her lightning. I've come to enjoy the feel of her sparks over the last few months. It's been weeks since I felt them and she has been working on control with the other electricons, maybe today I won't get such a strong shock when she climaxes.

Outside of Corvium, prayers are few and far between in Norta, but that is how my name sounds in her mouth. Almost desperate, almost.

I set her down on the counter that runs along the wall facing the long line of showers. I drop back to my knees. My intention is to remove the rest of her clothes slowly. Let her agonize over wanting me for a few extra seconds. But she has other plans. She kicks her shoes off.

"Calore, I swear; if you don't hurry up I will do it myself, and you'll just have to watch." It was meant as a threat, but I could be into that. Instead, I bend to her whim and all but rip the rest of her clothes off. While she is distracted with unbuttoning my pants, I slip two fingers inside her. If she were anymore turned on, she would be dripping. The noise that escapes her is closer to a purr than a gasp. I am in love with every noise she makes as I twitch my fingers in a _come-hither_ motion and rub her clit with my thumb. I drop down again, this time to taste her. She writhes against my tongue. She moans as I suck. She knots her finger in my hair and pulls my head back.

"Fuck me. Now." She growls.

"Yes, ma'am." I grasp her hips and drive my cock inside her as deep as I can. It is a shock to both of us. A bolt of purple lightning flies past me, grazing my skin before striking a bank of lockers somewhere to my left as she cries out. I resist the urge to ask her if she is okay. I promised I wouldn't be gentle. I keep a hard, fast pace, barely allowing her to breathe. Her moans and purrs turn to screams. If she doesn't calm down, I am going to cum too soon. I change the rhythm. I want to draw this out. I pull back, leaving only the tip inside her. The glare she gives me holds the threat of her power, but I rebel against her. I give her a few shallow thrusts before shoving back into her, hard. She locks her ankles behind my back, holding me there, trying to force me to pleasure her the way she desires. But I am stronger than she is, and I break free. I repeat my pattern several times, after just a few passes, she decides that she actually does like it and gives in to it. I am not satisfied by her contentment.

I grip one of her ankles and force her to bend one of her knees and put her foot up on the counter so I can push deeper inside her. Her head rolls back, her hair dangling on end as I return to the hard fast thrusts she wanted. She reaches down and unclasps my bracelets. I shake them off. There are pink handprints on her body where I have been holding her. The burns are not severe, just like minor sunburns, but still, it twists my heart to see them. They remind me of the "M" burned into the skin over her collarbone courtesy of my little brother.

"I'm sorry." My voice is rough and breathless.

"Don't be. I want to burn for you." I bury my face in her perfect breasts. Her back arches beneath me and her fingers dig into the soft flesh of my sides. Purple flashes in my peripheral vision. Lighting strikes around the room. The residual static prickles against my skin. Her screaming fills my head. I am straining. Trying to hold myself back until I know she has orgasmed. I pull my face off her sweaty chest and watch her. She is close. She stares into my eyes.

"Together."

"Hell, yes." My next few thrusts are at a break-neck pace. Her muscles contract around me, making her even tighter. Her lightning strikes the mirror behind her, the cracks recreating the shape of her bolt. Tiny hairline cracks radiate out from each deep scar. I release with her. Her sparks only adding to my pleasure.

I lift her off the counter and hold her close to me for several minutes before I set her on the floor. I don't want her to be sitting there if the mirror comes down. There are scorch marks and melted laminate where I had braced myself against the counter and the wall. I glance around at the rest of the destruction. I'm impressed by the damage left in the violent wake of our love.

"You should stop by the infirmary and have those burns looked at." She frowns.

"I rather wear them. And they don't hurt, so there is no need." I'm not going to argue with her. Her mind is made up. She looks me up and down. "I will go if you do." It takes me a second to realize she is talking about the scratches and the web of lighting burns on my back and sides. "Then we can both explain to Sarah how we ended up in this condition."

"Didn't you say something about a shower?" She nods. I pull her against me and kiss her softly. I am grateful that she let me change the subject. There is nothing I want less than to tell the woman who is, for all intents and purposes my aunt, that I had rough sex with the woman who broke my heart. "Lead the way."

The advantage to showering with a burner is the water never gets cold.

* * *

"That is a terrible plan." We are walking to her family's home on the opposite side of the base. Her fingers are entwined with mine. We take the long way, walking slowly. The day is hot, so I don't mind that my shirt is now missing all but two of its buttons. She has walked me through the basics of the mission, leaving out any specific details. She does it on purpose. I know her better than I know anyone else. I know that she doesn't want me to worry about her, but she also doesn't want to give me any indication of when and where things will be happening in the event that I decide to do something stupid because I love her. She isn't wrong. I have done plenty of stupid things out of love for her.

"You only think that because—one it involves me being alone inside Whitefire, and two because you didn't think of it first." Her thumb rubs little circles into the back of my hand. It is the only sign of how nervous she is about this plan. I squeeze her hand.

"No, I think that because it's dangerous, and you haven't given me enough detail to be sure that you and your handlers know what you are doing. Who came up with this cockamamie plan anyway?" She gives a small laugh.

"I did. It's my mission, start to finish. I approached Davidson about it, and he agreed." I stop, muscles tense. She is intentionally putting herself in danger for me. I was okay when I thought she had been recruited for the mission. I would have had someone else to blame if something went awry. But she is doing this to herself, for me.

"Why?" She turns to me.

"I already told you why."

"Why does it have to be you? "Her features soften.

"Because his twisted obsession with me will keep him from killing me on sight. No one else has that kind of protection." She is right. The brand she wears as a reminder of his cruelty is also an outward symbol of his intent to keep her alive and under his control. I hope that it will protect her from the new Queen as well.

"Mare, I'm going to ask one more time. Please, don't go. Call the mission off. Or at least send someone that He can't identify as part of the Guard in your place." She gives me a sad smile. Her answer is no, and she doesn't even have to say it. She pulls me to her, and I let her.

"You know I can't do that. I helped bring him to power; I have to be the one to bring him down. Besides. The details of the plan only work if it is me. I am a weakness; no one else can get close enough."

"What details would those be?"

"I can't tell you..." I open my mouth to protest. She can tell me whatever she wants too; it's her mission. "Do you remember a few weeks ago when you told me how I got out of the city and why?" I nod. Do you also remember telling me that you were afraid to tell me how involved you were in that plan because you didn't want it to change how I look at you?" I nod again; I know where this is going. "I don't want to be a monster, but you knowing the details of what I am about to do, will make me just that. In my eyes and yours."

"Okay." I don't accept her answer, but I do understand it. And I can't fault her following my poor example.

"I'll tell you when I come home. I promise." We both know that is probably a lie and it makes neither of us feel better.

The remainder of the walk to the residential district is quiet. Neither of us feels much like talking. There is nothing to be said. I walk her to the door and say a quick goodbye. I don't want to draw this out. It hurts too much to say much of anything. When I turn away, she grabs my hand again.

"Will you be there to see me off?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." When she lets me go, I make it to the end of the walk before she stops me again.

"Cal?" I close my eyes and take a deep breath as her voice brushes against me. I should turn around, but I am afraid of the look I will see in her eyes.

"Yes, Mare"

"I missed you too." I turn back just as she launches herself at me. I catch her in my arms. I glance sheepishly at her father who is watching us from the window. He gives a small nod and turns away. I kiss his beloved daughter goodbye.

* * *

I stand on the tarmac with Davidson waiting for Mare to arrive.

After I had left her with her family and changed my shirt, I went to Farley with mare's ridiculous plan. She has Clara in her arms when she answers the door, and it is one of the few times I have heard her cry. The sound is heart-wrenching.

" _Oh, that stupid girl." I glare at her. "Don't look at me like that Calore. The plan is stupid, and she is being stupid." She is right. I can't fight her, but I don't have to like it either. I sigh. "What do you want to do about it?" Her question throws me for a loop. I look at her questioningly. "I assume you have a plan to stop her."_

" _No. I don't." She looks at me dumbfounded. "What I have, is a plan to extract her after she has completed her mission."_

" _You are just going to let her go?"_

" _When are people going to realize that I don't LET Mare Barrow do anything? Mare does what Mare wants; I have no say in it. I never have." My tone is defensive, but it's true. She almost never listens to me, and when she does, it is because I am agreeing with her. "This is going to sound weird, but may I hold Clara?" Farley looks drained and like she could use a break. The crying isn't helping either. He hesitates. Not certain of my intentions, but she eventually relents._

" _Support her head." I take the advice, not bothering to tell her that I know how to hold a baby. I had won over certain members of the guard by being good with the kids. Teaching them, training them, even playing with them, But I had never told anyone why I am so good with children, not even Mare. After my first visit to the front as a solider, not on a tour with visiting officers, I realized the way that families were being decimated and devastated by the war. I started visiting orphanages when I would slip out of the palace. I cared for war-orphaned children whenever I could._

 _I took Clara from her and laid her on my arm with her tiny head resting against the bend of my elbow. I bounced her and swayed with her as I patted her back. It only took a few minutes to calm the baby and lull her to sleep. Sometimes they just need a change of scenery to easy their tiny sufferings. Farley looks at me with wide eyes._

" _You just have to be good at everything, don't you?" Her tone is soft, and she is smiling, A rare sight from Farley. I smile back._

" _Babies just like me. It's inexplicable." I lay Clara in her bassinet and cover her with a little purple blanket. The stitching on it is so delicate and intricate; only Gisa could have made it._

" _Alright Calore, out with it. What's going on?"_

" _I don't know what you mean."_

" _This morning, you were little more than a brooding ball of misery. This afternoon, you are smiling, holding babies, and hatching schemes to save a girl you haven't spoken to in weeks from a dangerous situation that she is hellbent on throwing herself into." She collapses onto the couch. "Davidson didn't tell you what the mission was, did he?" I stare at the floor. "Mare did. Is she also the reason you are favoring your left side?" One of the electrical burns on my left side hurts a little more than the others, but I hadn't realized I was favoring it. I straighten up immediately._

" _Yes."_

" _Was it a fight or...?" She intentionally trails off. Uncomfortable with the subject._

" _We didn't fight. Twice." She puts a hand up. The conversation is over._

" _So what's your extraction plan?"_

" _I am going to monitor her progress from here until she gets into Whitefire, Then I'm leaving for Anabel's estate, then The Kingdom of Rift. I will pull her out of Whitefire myself if I have to."_

" _Your plan is also stupid and dangerous."_

" _I know. The state has not yet guarded against the Rift and I have to be inside Norta's defenses when Maven goes down, or I will lose my chance."_

" _Your chance of saving Mare or seizing the throne?"_

" _Both. Or just her... I haven't decided yet._

While I did Mare's pre-flight check; I went back and forth over all the decisions that I have made since I met the little red girl from the Stilts near Summerton. Even after hours of internal debating, I still have not decided what the right decision is. I'm sure that this was Davidson's plan all along. Why he gave me the chance to be with Mare this afternoon, he wanted me to waver so he could set up a provisional government when Maven falls.

As I stand with him now, I resist the urge to give him a lashing. Instead, I turn to him and offer him my hand.

"Thank you, for giving me the chance to say goodbye to her." He shakes my hand.

"To be honest, I thought she might kill one or both of us for it, but I thought the risk would be worth it to you both." I pull my hand away. "Consider it an apology for my hand in your splitting up." The more he speaks, the harder it is not to throttle him. I hear the truck before I see it. Farley volunteered to feign ignorance of Mare's mission, so I figure that one, or both of her brothers will bring her. When I see her face, It strikes me how afraid I am that the mission will fail and I will never see her again. I hold my composure though, silently grateful for nineteen years of relentless conditioning to never show emotions. She had always been able to read me, though. I felt like an open book in her presence. She takes Davidson's hand.

"Premiere Davidson."

"Good Luck, Miss Barrow." When she turns away, her hand brushes my pocket ever so lightly. I grab her wrist. We have come full circle. How fitting that our first and last touch be the same. I let go of her and glance around; no one seemed to notice the moment. As she walks away from me, she glances back over her shoulder, a meaningful look on her face. I put my hand in my pocket and pull out a little piece of paper.

" _Dismiss my pilot. Come with me." T_ his woman is going to be the death of me _._

As Mare disappears up the cargo ramp, I slink off to the side door that I had left open after my check. I was hoping to use it to get a more privet goodbye with her, but it seems that I will get something better. I startle the pilot when I enter the cockpit.

"Sir? Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yes, soldier; you can get out of my chair."

"But Sir? I have orders to—" I place a heated hand on his shoulder.

"Your assignment has been revoked. Effective immediately." The soldier gets up without another word. I glance quickly at the instruments. Mare has closed the cargo ramp. "Use the side door, soldier." As soon as the door closes, I start the takeoff sequence; I don't want to give anyone the chance to stop us as they figure out what happened. I see mare reflected in the glass as I throttle forward for takeoff.

"Are you going to tell me where we are going?" She buckles herself into the seat next to me.

"The first stop is the Notch for supplies."

"And Then?"

"Archeon."


	2. The Notch

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello again, darlings. Just a warning before you embark; this section of prose references self-harm and the black feelings of loathing and despair can accompany the compulsion. No two experiences are the same. This depiction falls on the side of the irrational, and will not end with this chapter. It will be a fight more brutal than any other that has been or will be fought. If you are struggling with similar compulsions or are triggered by depictions of self-harm, please reach out to someone, you are not alone.**

 **If you are struggling with similar compulsions or are triggered by depictions of self-harm, please reach out to someone, you are not alone.**

 **As always, tread carefully and happy reading!**

 **Cal's POV**

The Moon is high in the sky as we approach the Notch. I know that the Guard has no one stationed at this safe house right now, but there is a small cache of supplies deep inside a cave system that also houses and abandoned mine shaft, in the nearby foothills. Mare still has not given me any details about her clandestine mission. She has done more to teach me patience in the time since I met her than anything else in my life. Sure, I could be strategically patient; waiting for the right time to strike a hard blow, but my temper used to have the shortest fuse. I'll have to remember to thank her one day.

I glance over at her, curled up in the copilot's seat. She fell asleep soon after takeoff and slept the entire ride. I find it odd that she is sleeping peacefully. I know that her nightmares have lessened, but she still moves around a lot in her sleep, and she hasn't moved once in the last hour or so. I brush the hair out of her face, careful not to wake her. The least I can do is let her sleep until we land, but even then, I don't have the heart to wake her. After cutting the engine, I make a quick sweep of the area to make sure Maven's soldiers have not been here, and the few supplies that are stored inside are intact. When I am satisfied, I unbuckle her and carry her into the Notch. I let familiarity lead me to the room we shared the last time we were here. I set her gently on the bedroll in the corner and turn to leave.

"Don't go. I still can't sleep alone." Her eyes are still closed, and her voice is sleepy. I toss a small fireball into the fire pit in the middle of the room. The dried leaves and kindling ignite immediately, casting a soft glow over the chamber. Now that we are back in Norta, the temperature is roughly twenty degrees cooler, and the air is dry; she will be cold.

"I'm just going to secure everything. I will be back before you fall asleep again." She gives me a small nod, and I head back out to the airjet. When I return, she is sitting in the bedroll with her back to the wall, and her knees pulled up to her chest. She has gotten more comfortable, having abandoned her pants and her bra. I allow myself a little indulgence and marvel at her toned legs. She chews on the inside of her lip. "Is something wrong?" I ask as I undress. I settle down next to her, just as comfortable as she is.

"Yeah, I'm just confused." She isn't looking at me. I stay quiet. If she wants to tell me, she will. "I'm glad you came with me," there is a "but" coming, and I don't know what will follow it. I fidget with my flamemaker nervously, letting it spark harmlessly. "But, what the hell are we doing?" She finally looks at me. I am pretty sure that she isn't talking about the mission, but I can't be certain.

"I don't know; you haven't given me enough for me to be sure." I figure ambiguity is my best bet at coaxing her into telling what she is talking about. If I guess at what she is asking me and I am wrong, I run the risk of upsetting her enough for her to shut down.

"I just can't find a way to justify being together if we both know that we don't have a future together." Her voice is thick with the threat of tears. I rest my hand over hers, but don't say anything. I need a second to think this through, If I choose the wrong words, I will lose her again. "Cal? Say something. Please."

"I love you." She tenses and starts to pull away from me, but I keep ahold of her hand. "Wait a second, hear me out." She doesn't move. "I know that still scares you. It feels finite. I get it, I do. We don't have to be together for me to love you. If you can't justify it, then don't. I'd rather spend the time we have left together as just Mare and Cal than fighting with you or avoiding each other because one of us is stubborn and the other obstinate." I speak softly, almost cooing at her the way a hunter approaches a frightened animal. "Not together, not separated, just Mare and Cal." The words slice through my heart. Every syllable a a single tooth on a long and serrated blade. I keep my head down, and my face turned from her. I hope to spare her my torment, knowing that she reads me as no one else can.

"Okay." I feel her relax. I still can't manage to look at her through the long silence that follows. When she speaks again, she sounds small and far away. "I'm tired, can we just sleep for a while?" We settle into the bedroll. It is familiar and comfortable. I smile inwardly, happy to have her in my arms again. But tonight is different from the nights we spent here together previously. Tonight, instead of sleeping with her back pressed against my chest, she turns into me and curls up against me, tangling her legs up in mine and resting her head on my arm. I fold her into a tight embrace and kiss the top of her head. "Sleep well, my King." I can't decide if I love or hate the pet name, but I surrender to the lilting tone of her voice.

"Goodnight, my Lighting Girl." She is asleep again within minutes, chest rising and falling slowly. I want to find it comforting, but alas, it isn't so.

I have always been a light sleeper. When I was younger, I blamed in on Maven's fear of the dark. Because of Elara's cold detachment from real mothering, He always wandered into my room after a particularly bad dream. Then it became my duty as a soldier to stay acutely aware of my surroundings, always. Recently, it is my own dreams that keep me from sleeping soundly. I am tired from the long day, yet the prospect of sleep means the possibility of dreaming and the faces that haunt me waking Mare. I shift slightly, trying to make myself more comfortable. Mare had always slept lightly too. Unless she was immersed in a nightmare of her own, then it took a hurricane to raise her. She always pretended to sleep through mine, but I knew she didn't. I appreciated her for letting me grieve on my own, close at hand, but never intruding. I hadn't been ready to share it with her then. After the fire goes out, I finally allow myself to sleep.

I wake up sometime in the early afternoon to the feel of slender fingers twisting in my hair. I don't recall ever having slept in so late. Eight in the morning was sleeping in; this was practically comatose. I don't remember dreaming at all. I haven't opened my eyes yet, but I am sure she knows I am awake. Her eyelashes tickle my collarbone. I roll over and pull her close to me, but she puts her hands on my chest to keep me at a distance. I open my eyes.

"You're too warm." Her skin is cool to the touch. What she means is _you're too close_. I pull back and settle for resting my hand on her waist, curling my fingers in the fabric of her shirt.

"Did you sleep enough?" She turns her face to look at me, nodding. For the first time in almost a year, there isn't even a hint of the usual sleepless bruising under her eyes. She looks well rested. The color has returned to her cheeks giving her skin a healthy flush. I'm sure she has no idea how lovely she is. "Any nightmares?" She shakes her head.

"No. What about you?" Her fingers return to my hair, pushing a few errant strands back and away from my face. It's getting too long again.

"I slept." Her eyes shine with concern for me. I give a little. "I don't remember dreaming."

"Good." She pushes my hand away and sits up, Stretching her arms over her head. The hem of her shirt rides up as she does, giving me a glimpse of one of the already faded handprints I left on her yesterday. The memory of it makes the blood rush away from my head. I watch her dress taking inventory of her. Outside of the pink burns on her, she has no visible injuries, not even a bruise. She radiates strength and vitality. She would walk into depths of Hell without a second thought if she saw fit to do so. I sit up on the cot as she puts her boots on.

"So, are you going to let me in on your plan today? Or am I just here because you enjoy the pleasure of my company?" She scowls at me. But I don't back down this time. "Mare, I can't help you if you don't let me in." She keeps quiet. Focusing intently on lacing up her boots. My patience is thin this afternoon. The constant push and pull of her affection is exhausting regardless of how much sleep I get. "Fine." I push myself up off the cot and pull my pants on. "You obviously don't trust me." I shove my feet in my boots and turn to leave not even bothering to tie them. "I'll be in the woods if you decide that you need me."

"Cal, wait, I—" I leave the room before she has a chance to stop me, pulling a shirt over my head as I storm out. I know I am acting childish, but I'm frustrated with her, and I would rather take it out hunting something than arguing with her. I stop at the airjet and shoulder a rifle before heading out into the woods. At least hunting is useful.

 **Mare's POV**

I watch Cal head off into the woods from the entrance to the notch. I know that I should go after him. I need to tell him my plan sooner rather than later, but I just can't seem to make the words come out of my mouth. Instead, I head off in the opposite direction, toward the caves that are nearby. Counting and taking stock of supplies sounds just mindless enough to keep me occupied and will give Cal some time to cool down before I talk to him again. I take off at a light sprint. At this pace, it will only take me ten minutes to get to the caves.

I let my mind wander as I run. Inevitably, it returns to him, to us, to what we have been, what we could have been, and what we are. I owe Cal so much more than I am giving him right now. He is hurting. I catch it in his eyes at times when he isn't fast enough to rearrange his face into what he would like to be feeling. Last night in the light of the fire, he looked drawn and wounded. Those wounds were my fault; I had cut him with my silver tongue. His words were soft and understanding, but there was no light in his eyes as he said them. I suppose he thought the shadows would hide his face, that I wouldn't truly see him, but I did. In the light of his own fire, his pain is like a beacon. As I think about what Cal and I have inflicted on one another, always condemned to show the other the worst of our faults; my thoughts continually wander back to the balcony in Corium, though. To our broken promises and empty words. _Without you, I have no one. I am alone. I have nothing left._ It cuts through me as though I am standing in front of him again, begging him to choose me. In the grand scheme of things, this particular Calore brother has only betrayed me once. I, on the other hand, have been a traitor to his love and affection from the beginning.

It has always been me who leveraged his emotions. The revelation of my own cruelty slams me like a tangible force, knocking the wind out of me and causing me to stumble and crash to the ground hard. My face scrapes across the dirt opening physical wounds that run parallel to my internal anguish. A hard thought shakes me to my core; I prefer the physical pain to the emotional. I don't even have the presence of mind to push myself into a sitting position before I start sobbing. Hot tears fall into the dirt, collecting in small muddy pools beneath my cheeks. From the very beginning, I have squandered and forsaken every moment of vulnerability he has shared with me. I used his growing feelings for me to manipulate him every chance I got. From the attacks on the Hall of the Sun and Archeon by the Scarlet Guard to convincing him to stay with me and the rebellion because I needed him. Hiding my feelings for his brother instead of dealing with them while sleeping next to him. Even breaking my promise to never return to Maven for anyone twice now. Only once had he asked me for something. He implored me to choose him, accept him and love him for who he has always been without doubts. But I was too damned selfish even to consider it. I didn't even have to be his queen, I just had to choose him, and I couldn't even do that. What kind of bitch am I?

I cry out. It is a primal sound that echoes through the trees. As I do, I dig my fingers into the soft Earth, pulling at the dirt and thin grass. With it comes a jagged rock with a sharp end on it. As the dust slips through my fingers, my grip tightens around the stone. The sharp point bites into the skin of my palm. I pull my face out of the mud and look at my hand in fascination as a tiny bead of red blood rolls out from under my clenched fist and falls to the ground. My tears now run into the scrape on my cheek. It stings—it helps. I rearrange myself, so I am sitting cross-legged on the ground. I turn the rock over and over in my hand, studying it from every angle. It's not nearly as sharp as the knife I carry, but it will do less noticeable damage if I...

Before I even complete the thought, I am pulling the jagged edge of the rock over the fleshy part of my palm below my thumb. It hurts, but it doesn't bleed too much. After a couple more minutes, my tears stop. I wipe my face on my sleeve and my hands on my pants and get up to go. I was close to the caves when I fell, so my mind doesn't have time to wander before I arrive. I let the purple sparks dance across my fingers and light my way through the cave. I can't remember exactly where the supplies are hidden; I should have paid closer attention to Ada or brought her with me.

It's dark and damp in the caves, and the constant sound of dripping water is incredibly irritating. I am still agitated from my tantrum in the woods; it distracts me as I move through the narrow passages. I slip and slide along the floor until I find a little antechamber partially hidden by fallen rocks. Inside is a small store of practical supplies. Weapons, rations, clothes and basic living needs are all represented and accounted for. It looks like no one has been in here in a couple of months. I rifle through everything grabbing what we will need for the journey ahead. As I am packing the supplies, I look down at my wounded hand. Hot shame bubble up in my stomach and I feel like I am going to be sick. I bite back tears. "What the hell am I doing?" My whisper echoes around the room, it is eerie and unsettling. I promise myself then that I will never do it again. It is an act unbefitting a soldier.

When I get back to camp, Cal is nowhere to be found. I put the newly acquired provisions away and head out again. This time I make my way through the underbrush toward a small stream about a half mile away. I take off my boots and wade out into the cold water washing my hands and face clean of dirt and blood. The water does nothing to wash away the shame and self-doubt. I sit on the bank and watch the weak current of the water for much longer than I had intended to.

"Mare?" I hadn't even heard him approach. I don't turn around; I don't want him to see the scratches on my face yet, not until I can explain them adequately.

"Yes, Cal?" My voice is far away in my ears.

"Are you okay, you sound like you've been crying." I reach up to touch my cheek, and it's wet. I had been crying and hadn't even realized it. I hastily wipe my eyes on my sleeves again.

"Yeah, I guess I was. But I'm all right." He crouches down next to me and turns my face so that he can see it with only the touch of his finger. There is concern etched into the depths of his amber eyes. _Damm._

"What happened?" I am not sure if he is asking about the scratch on my face or my tears. Neither question will elicit an honest answer.

"I fell. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings and tripped." The words roll off my tongue. The lie of omission is bitter on my tongue. I cannot look at him any longer. I pull away from his touch and look down.

"Are you hurt? Is anything broken?" I can't tear my eyes away from my hand long enough to meet his eye and abate his worry.

"No, nothing is broken. Just a few cuts and bruises." He stands, his heat betrays his frustration with me, but I know he won't push me for the answer he really wants. Our relationship is too delicate in his mind. I am inwardly grateful that treads lightly for fear of losing me again.

"I just came down to tell you that there is food if you're hungry." His stoicism keeps his words from further revealing his feelings. He takes a few steps away from me.

"I bet you caught a rabbit." I stifle a chuckle and start putting my boots back on.

"What's so funny about me catching a rabbit?"

"You hate rabbit."

"I can't believe you remember that." If a voice could smile, his would be. I look at him over my shoulder.

"I know I'm selfish, but you make it sound like I pay no attention to you at all." He looks away from me. "I remember every conversation we've had, every moment we have shared. Even ones that only happened in my dreams while I was away." I stand and dust myself off. I avoid his eyes. "Some days, those were the only thoughts that kept me going." He stays quiet. His face neutral. "Can I walk back with you?" He holds his hand out to me. When I lace my fingers through his, he pulls me just a little bit closer. I don't protest.

"It's a rabbit." When I laugh, he laughs with me. The sound of it ripples through me; I have missed it.

We lapse into silence as we stroll through the trees. It feels heavy and uneasy to me. It's all I can do not to squirm under the weight of it. Cal seems unaffected by it. It must be the weight of all the things I have not said pressing down on me. I open and close my mouth several times looking for both the words and the courage to say anything at all. The camp is in sight before I can say anything. I stop short; Cal doesn't notice right away, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

"Cal."

"Yes, Mare?"

"I'm sorry." He looks at me as though I have just given him a riddle to work out.

"What are you apologizing for? If this is about earlier, I overreacted and didn't give you the opportunity to answer before I stomped out like a petulant child—it's my fault." I put my hand up to stop him. His eyes linger on my cut palm, and I hastily shove it into the pocket of my jacket.

"I need to be more open with you. I know that. But that isn't all I am apologizing for. I'm also apologizing for the countless times I should have apologized and never did." My throat feels dry and constricted. "I'm sorry for everything I have put you though since I fell into that electrostatic shield on Qeenstrial Day." The quick smile that crosses his face makes me insecure. "Why are you smiling? I am pouring my heart out to you and—" He yanks me toward him and circles his arms around me, crushing me against the hard muscles of his chest. I can barely breathe.

"I was just thinking how amusing it is that you are not sorry for trying to pick my pocket, but you are for What Evangeline did to you." He relaxes his hold on me enough so that I can breathe freely.

"Well, you were outside a seedy bar at two in the morning. That's like asking someone to pick your pocket. So, no. I'm not sorry for that. Even more, though, apologizing for that would be apologizing for meeting you and I refuse to do that." It takes me a moment to come back to my point. "If I had never fallen into the area, your life would be very different." I try to pull out of his arms, but he resists only giving me a little bit more wiggle room.

"You're right. I probably would not have my life at all. Elara would have found another way. She was nothing if not resourceful." The thought makes me go cold despite my proximity to Cal. I shiver. We are both quiet for a long time. I let him hold me and stroke my hair, I feel as though it comforts him as much as it does me. "Can I see your hand?" The question catches me off guard.

"Why?" I sound a lot more defensive about it than I should. It rolls off him.

"I just want to see how deep it is, make sure you don't need stitches." If he notices my hesitation, he doesn't say anything. He holds my hand in both of his; the touch light and gentle. "Come with me. I want to clean it properly and bandage it. "

"It's fine. It's just a small cut." The look in his eyes is the only thing that reveals what he is feeling. I have seen that sorrow before, at Ocean Hill. He is thinking about his mother. I keep my face blank, but internally, I am screaming. Fuck, Julian told me how Coriane died, how is was made to look as though she had done it herself. I had never pressed Cal to tell me about her. I don't know which of the stories he believes. I can't imagine what it will do to him if he finds out what I did. How could I do this to him?

"It's not fine. You washed it in the river, it will get infected." I relent and allow him to pull me in inside and clean the wound. Before he wraps the bandage around my hand, he presses his lips to the cut. "Promise me you will pay better attention in the future."

"I promise." It's barely a whisper.

 **Cal's POV**

It's late when Mare comes to find me. I left her to her own devices today; she clearly needed some time alone. I worried about her constantly, though. The cut on her hand bothered me more than anything else. It was too precise for a fall. I will keep my suspicions to myself, though. I can't push with her—not yet—she will run, and I want to keep her as close as possible for as long as I can. The cut reminds me of my mother more than I care to admit, even to myself. I had grown up believing that she had killed herself. It wasn't until I was old enough to string the hints and inconsistencies together that I started to suspect that Sarah was telling the truth. As I sat watching the fire tonight, I let it burn with my rage toward Elara. I dialed back the inferno when I heard Mare's cautious steps.

As she approaches, she makes more noise, so I know she is there. She drops down behind me, wrapping her arms around my middle and laying her cheek against my shoulder blade. She is cold. I warm my hands and rub them over her arms.

"What did I do to deserve this?" She tightens her grip but doesn't answer my question.

"It's cold out here."

"Come sit by the fire with me; I'll keep you warm." Her movements are slow and deliberate. It doesn't cover her hesitation well. I try not to take it as an insult; she has been through enough today. She settles in next to me, cuddled in closer than I anticipated. I open my arms to her with the expectation that she will decline my offer to hold her. To my surprise, she doesn't reject it outright. She drapes her legs over my lap and tucks her face in against my neck. She never ceases to amaze.

"The only other person I trusted as much as I trust you, was Shade." Her sigh is so great, I feel it as though I had sighed as well.

"I know." My earlier accusation comes back to me. I know that she trusts me, but that trust is no longer implicit; I have damaged that bond and her faith in me stands on shaking grounds.

"We will leave for Archeon in two days." I don't respond. "My pilot's orders were to return to Piedmont once I was inside the city. Since my mission doesn't have an end date, there is a good possibility that I will be inside Whitefire for months. It would have been too risky for him and the jet to be so close to the city for so long." She hesitates. I stay quiet knowing there is more that she wants to say. "I don't want you anywhere near the city once I'm inside. You should go—"

"Mare, I swear if you say Piedmont—"

"—To the Lerolan estate or The Rift, where you are among allies and keep your head down. It's just too dangerous for you to stay in the city while I am at Whitefire." There is an earnestness in her voice. It makes me want to bend to her will, but I won't go down without a fight.

"It's no more dangerous than the last time I went home." She cringes against me. She still carries guilt for her part in my life taking a violent turn away from everything I knew. I wish she would let go of the guilt. The fault lies with Maven and his mother.

"Last time, you had the chaos of battle to conceal you."

"Because burners are so hard to spot in battle." My antagonism is a side effect of my dark mood.

"You know what I mean." She rises to my challenge with animus of her own.

"We also had almost every sworn Sentinel and a full complement of Lakeland soldiers to contend with. Not to mention the whisper." There is no point to further evoking a memory so painful for both of us by saying his name aloud. It should bother me that we killed him, but I could not care any less.

"Cal, I can't do this if I am worried about your safety." Her voice drops all of its spirit. A resigned hush falls over her. She wavers. "In a fit of impulsive stupidity, I asked you to come with me; but the threat of your capture cannot hang over this mission. I will fail." She draws my face down so that I have no choice but to look into her pleading eyes. Her desperation may just break me.

"I need to be close in case you need to be extracted quickly." The protest is feeble, and she knows it.

"I will be supported inside the palace and out in the city by both the Guard and the Newbloods." She whispers. She is winning, yet she continues to back down. Why?

"Farley didn't say anything about Newbloods being inside Norta, let alone in the Capitol."

"She doesn't know." She settles back against me. I lay my face against her hair. Her resignation has tempered my spark. "No one other myself and whoever else Davidson told does."

"This will sound indelicate, but why tell you? There is a command structure. Protocols."

"He didn't tell me. I discovered that Maven had sent in Newbloods that came to him for sanctuary as spies. I made quick and easy work of turning them once they realized the lies they had been fed. They report directly to Davidson now. They have been turning the others under the King's _protection."_

"You've been busy over the last several weeks."

"I had to find something to occupy my time while I didn't have you." Would that it was, she'd make a magnificent Queen. Beautiful, quick-witted, a true warrior, everything a Queen should be. Something she said a few minutes ago, nags at the back of my mind, though.

"Wait, did you say you would be inside Whitefire for months." Her hair tickles my face as she nods. Anger sears through me like a hot sword. "No." The harshness in my tone is unintentional. I will not accept that she would willingly subject herself to such torture, and me by extension.

"Cal—" If the heat coming off me bothers her, she doesn't show it.

"No. You can't. Last time—" My fury was already near the surface from my earlier rage. So, the iron was already hot when the hammer struck.

"Was Hell. Yes, I remember." The indignation inside me threatens to consume me in a white-hot inferno. Her lips caress my ear. "Calm down, my King. Look at me. Cal, look at me" She moves, placing her knees on either side of my lap. Her gentle hands rest on either side of my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks. The bandage on her left hand is fuel for the fire that is my anger. She presses a kiss to each of my burning cheeks and then my lips. The is kiss is sweet, full of meaning and emotion. She kisses me a second and a third time, each of those kisses just as heartfelt and soothing as the one before. "I will not draw it out longer than I have too." She is trying to placate me. Because I am weak, it is working. "You taught me well. I am prepared. I will be fine." Stroking my ego between kisses, she has always fought dirty. My ire starts to ebb under her ministrations. Her eyelashes flutter against my cheeks. "Kiss me." She whispers against my lips.

"This is not a fair fight." I concede and run my tongue lightly over her soft lips, entreating her to invite me in. She refuses me.

"A good soldier uses every advantage at her disposal." I would be eating my words if it weren't for her otherwise occupying my mouth, as she finally allows me to return her kisses.

"You can't distract me like this forever." The longing in my voice does not escape her notice.

"True, but two days in bed together doesn't sound so bad, does it?" Now she is teasing on purpose. I move my hands from her waist, tangling one in her hair and resting the other on the small of her back, just under the hem of her shirt.

"Perhaps you are the seductress they painted you to be all those months ago." She pulls back and stares down at me.

"But it was you who courted me, my King."

"That isn't the way I remember it. You vied for my attention in the halls and the arena."

"I did no such thing. I worked hard to fit a role I was loath to play. And we both know that I had your attention before I was forced to play the court's games. You saved me from conscription for no logical reason, and I saw your face when I was promised to your brother. You saw me before I saw you."

"You knew of my feelings before I did, though." She nods. "I was helpless to your charms."

"Moonlit dances under false pretenses, stolen glances, a fevered kiss. None of those were my charms." The little smirk on her lips vanishes. "Do you remember what you said to me while we danced that night; when you kissed me for the first time? "I am about to fall into a trap, but I answer her anyway.

"I said that I wished I didn't have to be King. But, Mare everything has changed sin—" She silences me with a kiss.

"If things were different; if we really could be just Cal and Mare, living anywhere but here, no difference in status or blood, without the weight of a nation hanging over us. If we were just a man and woman; do you think we would be happy?" I don't think I have ever heard the wistfulness that is floating on her hushed voice. I fall in love with it immediately. The passing thought of an unburdened life together cuts me to the quick, a wound that will never heal.

"We managed to find each other under impossible circumstances. I think we could find a way to be happy together." She knows how carefully I chose those words. In return, she chooses just as carefully not to admonish me and dash my hope.

"I don't think I know how to be happy. At least not for longer than a night with you." Her eyes are somber and tired. They weigh on me more heavily than the crown ever could. I stand, sweeping her into my arms. "Put me down." I shake my head. "I don't need you to rescue me anymore. Not since you showed me, I could do it myself."

"How foolish of me. I should have left you helpless so you would always need me."

"I have never been helpless." There is an odd mix of laughter and venom in her voice. I set her down and catch her face in my hands. I kiss her fiercely. A clash of heat and light. I keep her held fast to my side.

"Right next to clever on the list of words that define Mare Molly Barrow, scribble in precious. That is what you are to me. And there is more than a fair chance that I will not let go of you until you cross the threshold of the Capitol." She slips out of my grasp more easily than any silk or swift. Never breaking contact, she closes her fingers around my wrist and pulls me toward the door. I douse the fire.

"Follow me, and I will make you feel exactly what you are to me."


	3. Goodbye

**Author's note:**

 **Hello again, darlings.**

 **This section is a little on the lighter side. The last chapter was heavy and difficult to swallow, so this time, I will only hint at what Mare is going through for my sake and yours.**

 **The standard warnings for language and violence still apply here.**

 **One last thing. You have probably already figured this out, being as clever as you are, but I will tell you everytime I switch POV. Assume the narrator has not changed after a line break unless I say otherwise. : )**

 **As always, Tread Carefully and Happy Reading!**

 **Mare's POV**

I run my fingers over the dials and watch the needles quiver under my touch. The hum of the engines comforts me as we approach the capital. It's difficult to keep my mind quiet and clear as my anxiety builds with every passing mile. It used to be the flying that unnerved me, but now it is my impending return to my sadistic jailor. My mind keeps running past the same question _Am I doing the right thing?_ I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my chin on them wrapping my arms around them to hold myself still. I focus on breathing, pushing my doubts away. I don't have the luxury of self-doubt. I run through the plan again in my head. Looking for anything I may have missed. If everything goes according to plan, I will be back inside Whitefire by tomorrow night.

The glaring flaw in my plan is that I can't know for sure how Maven will react. No one knows the Boy King the way that I do. No one understands the way his twisted mind rationalizes and calculates the way that I do. It is by no means a perfect understanding, but it is better than anyone else's. I am taking a huge risk and betting on him admiring the poetry of my reappearance in the palace instead of killing me immediately. If he hasn't forgiven me for leaving him for the second time, though, my punishment will be far more severe than silence and isolation. The thought of the manacles makes my heart pound in my chest. It feels like the muscle is hitting my ribs. I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing. Unnaturally warm fingers close around the back of my neck, massaging gently.

"Mare, calm down." It's a practiced tone. We both know what my panic will do to the airjet. My mind flashes back to the night of the failed raid to free the child legions. The sensation of falling overtakes me, and the smell of fire fills my head. My seat swivels. "Look at me." I snap my head up and meet a gaze of molten bronze. "Easy, slow deep breaths." I try to follow Cal's instructions, but the culmination of so many dark memories is making it difficult to focus on him. My fingernails dig into the flesh and of my legs. The fabric protects the skin, but the pain grounds me. It's like an anchor keeping me in the here and now. I both relish and revile it. I feel like I am not getting enough air and dizziness sets in. Cal pulls at one of my hands, lacing his fingers through mine and pressing his lips to my fingers. He places our joined hands on his chest. I can feel his heartbeat in my hand. "Breathe with me." The hand that was on my neck slides down to my cheek, tucking the hair that has fallen over my face behind my ear. "That's my girl."

After several long minutes, my breathing starts to normalize. My chest hurts, but I push it down. I avert my gaze. Now that I can breathe, his eyes are too intense for me. I choose to look at his lips instead.

"Does this mean you have forgiven me for our argument this afternoon?" I cock my head to one side and smile. I force as much innocence into my voice as I can muster. It is a tactic I learned from him.

"No. It means I am not in the mood to die today." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "Where was your head just now?"

"Everywhere by right here. The worst of which were trapped in silent stone and the memory of the last time we flew out to meet your brother." A dark look settles in his eyes. I am sure he is thinking about Evangeline's restraints as I gave myself over to Maven the first time. I'm sure this time will be much the same.

"Well, how about for the next" He glances at the dials. "thirty-six minutes, you keep your head right here?" He sits back down in the pilot's seat. Lounging back, tossing his head to look at me. He winks at me. It infuriates me every time he does it. It's ridiculous, and he knows it. I scowl and stick my tongue out at him. A half smile quirks on his lips. For all the maturity the two of us are expected to possess, we still manage to find childish delight in one another. "I can think of a few more useful things you could do with that tongue." I shrug it off, not even bothering to glare at him. I unbuckle the safety belts and get up. As I pass, he grabs my hand again. "I would forgive you If you would just tell me how you expect to get close enough to kill the King." I look down at him a hint of sadness in my gaze. I need him to know that this hurts me too.

"Nevertheless, you would not forgive me for my explanation." I pull my hand out of his and continue on into the small cargo hold. The airjet we took, carries no more than four. Two passengers and the pilot and copilot. I have no trouble moving through the small hold. I settle in at the back of the jet and go through all my supplies for the seventh time. Most of my provisions will come from inside the city. I will board for a single night in the stead of a whistle before moving on to the palace. In the dark of the hold, I allow myself to cry. I do it quietly, keeping a firm hold on the electricity that runs through my veins.

"Mare" He calls back to me, His voice is firm but gentle. "We will be landing soon. You should buckle in." I cross back to the cockpit in a few quick, sure steps. I sink into the seat next to him and strap myself in. If he can tell that I was crying, he has the good sense to say nothing and avoid the fight it will start. Neither of us wants the last of our time together to be a battle. "hmmm."

"What? Is something wrong?" I look at the dials. Based on what little instruction he has given me, everything looks fine.

"The city doesn't seem to be as bright as I remember it." His words are steeped in melancholy, the dregs of which settle on my heart. I look out over the city, watching it grow steadily closer.

"Cesar's Square is dark tonight." I feel his eyes on me. Burning through me. Reducing me to little more than a dying spark with their pleading sadness. The silence hangs like a humid summer night between us.

When the airjet is safely on the ground, and the engines are off, I don't move. I stare blankly out at the forest before me. The clearing we landed in is just big enough to suit our needs. The Capitol River is less than a mile from here and runs straight into the Capitol. It's is just after dusk, and a curfew has been imposed inside the city walls. My whistle is in one of the outlying villages that ring the city. They form the barrier between Archeon and Grey Town.

Next to me, Cal hasn't moved either. He is waiting. I haven't even spared him a glance since I sat down. It is too painful. The air is thick and hot. When I can't take the waiting and the silence anymore, I push my hands through my hair be and stand. I release the cargo ramps and stroll out with my pack. Cal gets up and follows as soon as I move. I can hear him behind me, calling my name, but I don't stop. I don't want to say goodbye—not again. I need to put some distance between us, steel myself before I face him; otherwise, I may not be able to leave him behind. I make it no more than ten feet before a hard-muscled arm catches me around the middle. He pulls me back against his chest, not bothering with gentility. If he were any hotter, he would burn me.

"We don't say goodbye." I hate the sound of weakness in my voice. I cannot say goodbye to him.

"We also don't separate in battle unless we have to." His free arm closes around me, clasping me in a tight embrace. His lips find my cheek. "I will protect you for as long as I can." I find comfort in the familiar words. A steadfast reminder that Cal has always loved me, even under the Bowl of Bones when he should have hated me. _He loved me._ This battle will be harder than any we have fought so far. I inhale deeply through my nose. It takes me too long to respond.

"You worry too much. I'll survive." I am not sure if I am trying to convince him or myself.

"Don't just survive, conquer." I turn in his arms and kiss him. "Don't let him get in your head. Your talent to read people rivals his. Don't fear him, he thrives on it." A memory of my first fight against Evangeline plays at the edges of my mind. He had told me how to defeat her as well. _He loved me._ I stay quiet. I couldn't talk even if I wanted to. I am close to tears, and my throat has almost closed completely. "Come home to me, Mare." When I pull back, there are tears on his face.

"Is that an order from my King?" My attempt and a teasing tone dies on my lips. I catch a few of his tears. They are hot on my fingers. I bury my face in his shirt, but he puts his fingers under my chin and bids me look at him.

"It is a request from your lover." There is no fire in his eyes right now. They are a liquid bronze. Glassy. I watch the color churn and swirl. I would be content to be cast adrift on them for the rest of my days.

"Stay safe. Promise me you won't do anything unless I ask; that you won't do anything reckless." He looks away from me, but I reach up and catch his face. "Promise me."

"I promise, but if you need anything I will be in—" I put a finger to his lips.

"I need to be able to honestly say that I don't know where you are, He knows when I lie."

"How do you expect to make contact if you don't know where I am?"

"Listen for the whistles." He smiles his approval. I need to leave soon if I hope to make it into the village before sunrise. "I have to go." He is reluctant to let me go. I brush my lips against his one last time. "I love you too, Cal." It is barely a whisper.

With that, I slip out of his grasp and make my way east toward the river. It takes all my willpower not to run back to him. For a moment, I wonder what he would say If I asked him to just run away with me. What if we stop fighting and just disappear into the night together _? I have always wanted to visit Tiraxes or maybe Ciron._

* * *

I follow the river bank to the edge of Grey Town. If I didn't know any better, I would think that I can feel the power that the Greenwardens use to keep the pollution of the slum away from Archeon. Inside the barrier, the air is thicker, darker. It presses on my lungs and burns my throat and tongue. I feel a surge of hatred for the silvers that oversee this slum. The reds that live in these conditions are already on my list of people to free from their bondage.

I lower myself down the bank so that the sound of the waves and the rushing current mask my movements. Grey town was not part of the initial diversion, It will not be hit until tomorrow night after I am already inside Whitefire. Starting the morning after we left Piedmont, and continuing for the next three days, power stations all over the country are being attacked, seemingly at random. Each of the major cities and places of economic and military importance such as Grey Town, New Town, and Fort Patriot will all be experiencing rolling blackouts West Archeon was hit at dusk tonight. Members of the Scarlet Guard took out the substations that supply main power to the palace, the Treasury, and most of Cesar's Square. The real diversion, though, is the rioting incited by reds and newbloods loyal to the Guard. Countrywide chaos just to cover my return to my gilded cage.

I move quickly over the rocky terrain, listening intently for the sound of anyone approaching. The reds here are controlled more strictly and cruelly than any of the others. The children from my village grow up to be cannon fodder, but the children in these slums are tattooed and designated to jobs early. They never see the blue of the sky or breathe fresh air. They live in the worst of the squalor. Where there is mud in the stilts, there is coal dust and iron slag in the slums. Unpolluted water is unheard of. It is a different kind of Hell than mine, but a Hell nonetheless. I allow my thoughts to stray to Cameron and Morrey. I recount everything they have told me about their life in the slums. If I knew any of the Lakeland error prayers, I would say one for their mother; she was dying slowly when they took her children from her. I feel an intense surge of pity for the reds that live and die here. At least some of the children who were released when the measures were revoked made it back to their families.

It is well past curfew in Grey Town when I hear footsteps approaching slowly. They are heavy footfalls on the stone walkway higher up on the bank. That are staggered. Two people in boots. There is a small recessed spot under the overhanging embankment just ahead of me, I dash for it crouching down and pulling my dark hood up over my hair. There is no use in covering my face, If I am captured, I will be shot on sight or taken to Maven for judgment. I have also decided that does not really matter if I am seen by anyone as Davidson had rumors started two weeks ago of sightings of me in villages across Norta all the sightings indicate that I am heading for the Capitol. A little piece of intelligence passed on by the Newbloods even says that I escaped the Guard after interfered with plans to install a new Monarch. In that dark little hole, I let my mind wander.

 _I pull my head off his shoulder and lean on one elbow so I can look down at him. His eyes glow in the firelight even though they are half closed. He is firmly caught in the afterglow of sex and tactical pillow talk._

 _"So, what do you think?"_

 _"I think it's almost brilliant."_

 _"Almost?" He cocks one eyebrow at the indignation in my voice, a lazy half smile on my lips._

 _"You have too many variables. So many things could go wrong, but you have all your bases covered in a practically ingenious way. Maven will have no idea which direction he should be looking in. Then there is the element of misdirection to throw suspicion off you when you return to the palace. It's convoluted, but it will probably work."_

 _"I'm still not hearing why it's only almost brilliant." I try not to feel too smug under his praise._

 _"Why draw it out so long. You and I could slip into Whitefire one night and kill or capture him with minimal effort; quick and decisive. I don't understand why that isn't the plan." I sit up fully and cross my arms over my chest defiantly._

 _"Oh, forgive me for forgetting that you are a genius. Go ahead and lay out a quick and decisive plan for assonating your brother for me. I'll wait." I can't keep the antagonism out of your voice. He opens his eyes and studies me for a moment, perhaps trying to decide if I am serious or being sarcastic. In the end, he settles on serious, scrubbing his hands over his face before answering me._

 _"Alright, overly simplistic but, you cut the power and—" He sounds tired now, but I bait him anyway. I want his fire._

 _"That is too obvious. If so much as a camera goes out in the residence wing, every sentinel in the palace will flock to the King to protect him from the wrath of his vengeful lightning pet." He winces. It is only recently that I have been able to say it out loud and now that I can, I find the control over my pain empowering. Cal, on the other hand, does not see it that way. He hates it, even more, every time I say it—Pet. The heat rises, I savor it._

 _"I know every way in and out of—" frustration colors his words._

 _"The updated blueprints show most of the tunnels have been discovered and blocked off, plus new passages were built while repairs were being done after the wedding campaign. We run the risk of getting cornered while trying to escape." I drop the antagonism from my voice, I've done enough for now. He will smolder on his own. I need only blow to raise him._

 _"Sniper." The edge to him tone is sharp and hot._

 _"Why didn't I think of that? Oh yeah, Eagrie Eyes, A few seconds is more than enough time to take a bullet for the King." My words are little more than a whisper as I lean in and lay a kiss on his chest. His arms snake out and capture me, pulling me in against him. I love him—entirely._

 _"Point taken." He twirls his fingers up in my hair. I can feel his desire for me throbbing against my thighs. I move, the tender skin of my legs gliding along the shaft. A barely audible groan escapes him. I do it again. This is the longest stretch of uninterrupted time we have ever had together; I plan to make the most of it. "You are brilliant." I let the flame engulf me._

As the footfalls fade away, I drag my mind away from the safety of Cal's love and back into my dark and dreary present. A feeling of foreboding draws closers around me with every step I take toward the city and my invading imprisonment. I tuck my hands in my pockets and keep my head down as trek to the edge of Grey Town.

* * *

Just as a light pink hue starts to tinge the horizon, I make my way, though, the sleepy village. It reminds me of the stilts, but low stone walls and sand bags are in place to control the flooding so close to Archeon. The water trapped inside the walls is stagnant and festering. Breeding grounds for mosquitos and disease. The stilts are not so high in this village, but the mud is just as thick. I glance at the sky for just a moment; it's going to rain this morning.

There is no life in this village this morning. The lec rations have been diverted to nearby silvers who were affected by the blackouts. The Whistle and surrounding patrols of Guardsmen have encouraged the villagers not to riot. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. They should be rioting. They should be fighting for their freedom and their rights. But instead, they are all pawns in my long game to kill their King. I am no better that the those who use me for their purposes. I feel like a hypocrite.

While caught in my own Web of self-pity, I lose sight of my own feet and slip in the mud. I would have gone down hard, had a man standing in the shadows not grabbed my arm to steady me.

"Thanks," I mumble trying to keep my voice in a lower register than normal. His fingers dig into my arm painfully. "I'm good, you can let go of me now."

"Where are you off to so early in the morning, girly?" His voice is gruff and I smell his night of boozing and carousing all over him.

"Let go of me." The words come out more like a growl than anything else. Sparks dance on my fingertips, still safely tucked in my pocket. His grip is like steel, crushing, bruising. He is a strongarm, silver. His Kings guard badge winks in the pale watery pre-dawn light. A drunken guard, fantastic. I play my advantage, he has no idea who or what I am. "Please, sir." I force a timorous tone and a false waver into my voice.

"Did no one ever teach you to respect your betters, little red girl." The mud makes a disgusting sucking noise as he steps toward me. He is too close for my comfort.

"Yes, sir. My mamma did." I make myself tremble under his fingers. I need him to believe I am helpless. Not that I won't defend myself, but that I can't. I make myself as small as possible, I want to appear meek.

"Did she also teach you the consequences of little girls being out past curfew?" His voice is low, and the implied threat makes my skin crawl. I allow him to pull me back into the shadows, the last thing I need is to attract the attention of a patrol team.

"Yes, sir. She taught me to be quiet and not make a fuss too." There is just enough light for me to see the twisted smile of malicious delight on his face.

"Then be a good little girl and get down on your-" CRACK. The heel of my hand my slams into his nose, breaking it immediately and forcing his head back into the wall behind him. In his stupor at having been struck hard by a defenseless red girl, he is slow to react. My knee strikes his groin, bringing with it the force of my lightning. He is bleeding on the ground, lying in a pool of his own vomit; when I step over him and dash off into the Cimmerian night

I meld into the shadows, but it is impossible to keep my steps quiet in the filth. I watch diligently for teams of King'sgaurds. Someone will find him eventually, and I cannot rely on his pride to keep him from reporting my noncompliance.

It takes longer than I expected to find the home of the Whistle. A single white candle burns low in one window, my signal that it is safe to approach. I stand for a moment regarding the little house; Deja vu settles over me. It bears a striking similarity to my own home in the stilts. Then again, every home in this village reminds me of my lost home. It seems like I have lived an entire life since the last time I set foot in my family home. I have experienced all the worst parts of life and love in less than a year. I have been everything from an animal in a cage to the face of impending revolution to a heartbroken lover.

I steel myself and approach the ramshackle house. I knock twice, once, three times, and twice again. The candle disappears from the Windows and before long, a single knock answers me. I wait several seconds before knocking twice again. The door opens slowly revealing an old woman, stooped and cracked with age. Women like her are a rare sight among reds; life expectancy in red villages is low, less than sixty years, most of us never having had the pleasure of meeting our own grandparents. The woman's eyes shine as brightly as the most precious of green gems. They scan the night for anyone who would be watching. She beckons me inside, and the door shuts quietly behind me.

There is a fire burning nearby despite the warm night. I assume that it is the only source of light with lec rations being what they are. I stand just inside the common room. It is furnished sparsely. I can't tell if it is a safe house or a permanent residence.

"They said to expect two. Where's the other?" Her voice is harsh and sounds as though it scratches and claws its way from her throat.

"They were wrong. I'm on my own." I keep my voice quiet; it's to keep the emotion from it. I am supposed to be a hardened soldier, not a lovesick girl.

"Good, easier to hide you. Bed is through there. Get some sleep, you look like hell." I nod to the woman who shuffles off to a nearby chair and eases herself into it. I cross into a small room separated from the main room by a thin curtain. I peel off my outer layers and crawl into the threadbare sheets to rest. Sleep comes hard, but it does eventually come; and with it, through the recurring nightmare of Shades death.

A rough shake wakes me a few hours later. It is not yet midday, but I have to prepare if I am going to make it into Whitefire. I open my eyes, and the same gem green eyes meet mine, only today, they belong to a young boy, no more than ten-years-old. His gaze is already hawkish, shrewd; this boy knows what his life will be.

"Are you my escort?" A curt nod is all I get in response. "What's your name?"

"Desmond—Desi, if you like." He has a deep voice for a child so small.

"Well Desi, I'm Mare. Nice to meet you." I hold my hand out to him. Even though he is just a little boy, I feel the need to speak to him as though he is an adult. He has an odd sort of commanding presence.

"Will you kill him?" the flatness of his voice makes me wonder if this child feels anything at all. A shiver runs through me. He reminds me of Maven. This is who the King would be without his rage.

"Yes." I don't hold back, my answer. "In time, I will be in a position to kill him and I will.

"Then it is nice to meet you too." The boy turns and steps out of the little room.

I pull on fresh clothes and step out into the common room. The day is dark. Overcast, heavy rains fell early in the morning and threaten to fall again. The gray day will make this mission more difficult. Crowds in the city will be smaller. I will not have as many places to hide.

"Desi will take you into East Archeon." The old woman opens the door and shoves me through it. "Rise."

"Red as the dawn." I pull my hood up covering my hair. The boy hands me a black scarf to cover my face, but I refuse it. Preferring to keep my head down and my eyes open wide. I dance over the mud trying to keep from making noise. It is an old habit from my thieving days that I will probably never let die. I am careful not to touch anyone I move through the narrow streets. It is practice for the coming night. When we reach the Gates of the City, Desi throws out and arm to stop me.

"Stay to my left and keep your head down. Look at no one directly." I follow his instruction without question. Either I have changed a great deal, or the boy is a newblood. I run through the list in my head. There is no Desmond on it, but that doesn't mean he isn't one. As we approach the guards, he holds out his arm and the red bracelet that adorns it.

"What is your business in the city?" The guard wears the pale blue of the house Gliacon, a shiver.

"I am to see the baker about an apprenticeship." The boy stares straight into the eyes of the guard. "I walk alone. Will you let me pass?" The guard nods and waves him through. I keep close to Desmond as we pass through the gate.

"You're a newblood."

"Yes."

"A whisper? Do you control minds?"

"No. I make suggestions, and the effect wears off within minutes." His voice is flat again. He must only use emotions when he uses his gift.

"Where are we going?"

"To the West side of the city. To a townhouse that once belonged to a noble family. Everything the Scarlet Guard requested will be waiting there." As we wend our way through Archeon, I watch, and I wait. The crowds are thicker than I anticipated, I suppose it has a lot to with tomorrow night's ball; I take every opportunity that presents itself. From the belt of a guard, I unsheathe a gold-handled dagger. From the wrist of a Greenwarden, a bracelet; a ring from the finger of a Telky. And several coins from the pockets of unsuspecting men. There are preparations that need to be made that I did not entrust to Premiere Davidson. I have played my hand closer to my chest than anyone has expected. I have given no one more than a taste of what I truly plan to do.

The rain starts as we cross the once ruined bridge. It is gentle at first, but by the time we reach the townhouse, it is coming down in droves.

"Same knock as last night at the back door." With that, Desi turns and leaves. I stand under a low overhang for only a moment. Deciding to circle the block and approach from behind. The streets are all but abandoned now, and to my luck, drapes are drawn and windows shuttered against the cold and the rain. Thunder rolls above me as lightning splits the sky in great slashes of white. The ferocity of the storm reminds me of Ella, but the colors are Tyton. All that is missing from the storm is Rafe. Between the four of us, we could bring Archeon to its knees. The thought had crossed my mind more than once, but in the end, I have always been sobered by my role in bringing this tyranny to pass and have always decided that it must be me who brings it down again. When blue light streaks across the sky I smile.

The back door to the townhouse is far from plain, but not exactly ornate either. I would expect more from a high house, even though the property has been abandoned, I still expect there to be a thin layer of gilding over everything. There is no candle in the window this time, but I knock twice, once, three times, and twice again anyway. A young red woman answers my knock.

"You're late." She looks vaguely familiar. She grabs the front of my jacket and pulls me inside. She busies herself with removing my wet outer layers. I kick off my muddy boots.

"I know you." She was one of my maids the first time I was at Summerton. I never learned her name for fear of Elara's wrath. She is here to paint me again.

"Kyra. Upstairs, third door on the left. Shower quickly, we don't have much time." She is brisk. I assume it is a side-effect of her time in the palace. Quick, quiet, and efficient.

"Thank you, Kyra."

"Don't thank me until it's over. I'll be with you until the end." She pushes me in the direction of the stairs.

"You still work in the palace?" there is a fair bit of shock pushing the words from my mouth. I thought that everyone red I had come into contact with between my two stints under royal protection.

"Aye." She pushes me farther.

"How did you escape the King's purge of everyone who knows who I am?"

"I didn't."

"I don't understand."

"My sister, my twin, Kali; she was your maid. I was maid to Lady Samos."

"I'm sorry for your loss and for Lady Samos." She cocks an eyebrow at me. A smirk crossing her sharp features.

"I'll forgive you when you kill him." She pulls the bathroom door closed with a snap. "Use the white stuff to get all the shit out of your hair." She yells through the door. I am starting to notice a pattern in people's sentiment.

I listen to the thunder roll as I shower. As good as the hot water feels on my tired muscles, I can't help but grieve the loss as I wash off Cal's touch. The water scalds, but does not compare to him. When I step out and dry off, my skin is pink all over, _like fresh burns_ —I think. For the first time, I glance at everything around me. It is all yellow. The walls look like butter, the towels like wildflowers, and all the fixtures and a brassy gold color. I suppress a smirk. I am in the old Jacos house, how fitting. I open the door and walk out into the cold dark hall. Kyra peeks her head out a room down the hall.

"Hurry up." Under any other circumstances, I could have liked Kyra. She isn't much older than I am and she doesn't seem to put up with the shit of people who aren't paying her to. If I wasn't responsible for her sister's murder, perhaps I could have made a friend.

The bedroom is large, and yet another shade of yellow. I think I would call this one Marigold. There are white sheets covering most of the furniture. Even though the house has been abandoned, It looks as though someone had taken the care to close it up; Julian, I assume. The thick layer of dust over almost everything suggests that no one has been here since Cal and his uncle were exiled. I am mildly surprised that Maven has not had it burned, removed from history like almost every other sign of the former Queen. Not even Ocean Hill bares Coriane's colors any longer.

"Sit." She points to a small stool beside a table with a large mirror behind it. I recognize all the makeup laid out on the table. _Here we go again._ It takes nearly two hours for Kyra to polish me up again. I sit as still as I can and say nothing while she shapes, tweezes, plucks, shaves, buffs, or paints nearly every surface of my body. My nails are a bloody shade of red. I hate it, but Maven won't. Two pots of the wet glittery white powder later, I almost look like Mareena again. Kyra dusts the powder low on my chest. I shimmer every way I turn in the light. "It needs to dry before I finish. I'll be back in five minutes. Don't smudge it." Kyra sweeps out of the room, her skirt flaring out behind her.

I get up and draw the towel tighter around me. I have been itching to explore this room since I walked in. I noticed a little while ago that a cover had slipped off a photograph on the wall near the window. The picture is of two teenaged girls, no more than fourteen or maybe fifteen. One was unmistakably Sarah Skonos, the other must be Cal's mother. They had been best friends. Coriane was pretty, with rich brown hair and pale blue eyes. They were not cold the way that blue eyes can be, but just pale enough to be almost clear, like calm and gentle water. As I look at her, I find it in my heart to miss her, even though I have never met her.


	4. A Wicked Game

**Author's Note**

 **Hello, darlings.**

 **This chapter contains sexual content, self-harm, and violence against women.**

 **As always, Tread Carefully and Happy Reading!**

 **Maven's POV**

I heave a long and weighty sigh. I have always found balls to be nearly insufferable, but this one is particularly torturous. There isn't enough wine in the country to even create the illusion that I am enjoying myself. At least the mask keeps me from having to force a smile as it covers most of my face. The horrid music is giving me a migraine, but still, I sit here watching the lords and ladies of the high houses drink and fall over themselves to win my favor after the fall of house Samos. I have slowly allowed them to return to court since my marriage to the Lakeland Princess. I still hold their children on tight leashes—well-kept hostages, so the houses bend to my will.

Typically, this ball is thrown at the Hall of the Sun. However, the precarious position the Scarlet Guard has forced me into keeps me in the Capital. I have always preferred Archeon to Summerton, and now that I am King, it may be years until I decide to return to that dismal place. When I can't stand the sound of forced laughter any longer, I rise from my throne and head for the nearest courtyard door. I wave off the sentinels and the elites that bray for my attention. A light mist of rain falls over the garden. I pull the mask off and turn my face up letting the water fall into my open eyes. I invite the biting sting. The empty courtyard is a welcome reprieve from the throngs of infuriating people packed into the ballroom. I would disallow speaking if I thought I could realistically get away with it.

From the corner of my eye, I notice a woman making her way to the ball. She glides in and out of the embrace of the shadows. A black cape wraps around her shoulders and swirls around her feet. I follow her with my eyes, stopping when she does to admire the large magnolia tree in full bloom. She shadows hide her just enough that I cannot see her completely, but she still shimmers in the silver light of the moon. I study her without letting her know that I have noticed her. I start at the top and let my gaze slide over her delicious curves. Lustrous brown hair pulled to one side, falling in a cascade of soft curls. Her mask, carefully held over her eyes by a black gloved hand—an elegant spray of sleek red and black feathers There is no woman at court who would dare to wear Calore colors so brazenly. _Who could she be? Her_ garnet lips pout ever so slightly. The deep cut of her neckline peeks out from under her wrapped cape, revealing a less than modest amount of cleavage. The dress itself is almost a work of art; blood red silk and black lace. It cuts tight to a slender waist and rounded hips. I close my eyes for a moment, remembering a dress that I had made for Mare, but hand never given to her. The realization shakes me to the core. I snap my head in her direction.

There is no one there.

I stare into the shadows, searching for any trace of her. There is nothing. I dismiss the thought of her as another ghost sighting in my tired throbbing mind. It isn't the first time I have imagined her in the halls. Never so vividly as tonight, though. I return to the ball in a huff. My sour mood progressing into all-out contempt for everyone and everything around me. The short fuse of my temper burns lower with every passing second. I abandon my mask, tossing it unceremoniously onto a nearby table. Iris appears next to me. She is a curious thing. I have no idea how I feel about her. I cannot even tell if I like her. I spend no time with her, preferring to be alone whenever my presence is not required in the endless barrage of council meetings and court appearances. I have made no effort to know her. It is a more or less typical political marriage, all business. Our transactions, though cold, are not altogether unpleasant, but her compliance gives me no excitement. She is beautiful, and I have no lack of appreciation for it, but she offers me no challenge. She acts the same way the other ladies at court who know what is good for them do—obediently. I have no doubt that my wife is a formidable woman, but she placates me at every turn, just as a proper woman is groomed to do so.

I suppose that is part of the reason I miss Mare so much. Why her leaving still cuts through me months later. I could never trust her fully because her loyalties are misaligned, but she is defiant, vivacious. Even when I caged her, she hissed and stuck like the viper I know her to be. I didn't bait and taunt her to return to me this time; my prior tactics would not have worked a second time. Instead, I decided to lie in wait until the perfect opportunity to exploit her weaknesses presented itself. Admitting to myself how much I want her back leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I loathe that she holds so much sway over me.

"Favor your wife with a dance, My King?" She wears a mix of house colors, Cygnet blue and Calore black. Her mask has also been abandoned. I am in no mood to dance, but It is my duty, and the least I could do. I take her hand and lead her to the center of the room. I take a quick pace and spin her around the room in a waltz. We cut a swath through the crowd as thelords and ladies move to give their King and Queen room to dance. "You look distressed, has something upset you?"

"I am anticipating further attacks on the city by the red rats. It is wearing on my patience." I rearrange my face into the standard fake smile. The lie rolls off my tongue with ease. The Guard may have my forces by the balls, but I am not worried about the power station attacks. They are designed to create anarchy among the reds; they will succeed with or without a rise from me. Iris continues to speak, but I ignore her. I have again caught sight of the woman in red—Mare. My pulse races as she floats around the edge of the ballroom, weaving through the dancing nobles, never touching anyone. Her grace is almost like a silk. I lose sight of her as I dance with my Queen. She must have left the room. As soon as the song ends, I release my wife. And step away from her. Conceding the bare minimum of decorum, I bow to her kissing her hand. "Thank you for the dance, My Queen." I turn and cross the room in several long strides. I would run if I did not care how it would make me look in the court's collective eyes.

The hall seems dark compared to the brightly lit and glittering ballroom. _Where is she?_ This time, the Sentinels do not allow me to wave them off as I make my way to the security office. When the door bangs open, it startles one of the young officers inside. I make a note to have him stripped of his rank tomorrow.

"There is an intruder in the palace." The statement is little more than a growl. Every man jumps to attention. "I have seen her in the magnolia garden and the grand hall. Find her." The man operating the cameras is the first to speak.

"Majesty, what does she look like? Is she a woman from one of the exiled houses or—"

"You are looking for Mare Barrow. I want her brought to me alive."

"Yes, of course, Your Majesty."

An odd mix of emotions roils through my veins, burning my blood. The two I can identify are indignation and hope. How dare she be so bold and alluring, dangling herself in front of me, taunting, teasing, infuriating me. _I despise her. I need her. I will have her._ I watch the security teams sweep the palace on one monitor while the remaining sentinel plays back footage from the courtyard and the ballroom. The cameras did not catch her in the courtyard; the shadows hid her well. And the ballroom is too chaotic in black and white for me to be certain that it is her. _Fuck._

"Send out a notice to all the station houses in the city and surrounding villages. I want her found. I want her in chains before nightfall tomorrow." The words rage from my lungs. My ire raising the temperature in the room startlingly fast. Sweat breaks out over the sentinel's brow almost immediately. I leave the room slamming the door behind me with such force it causes the dried and heat warped frame to splinter.

Fire rolls over my fingers as I stalk through the halls at a brisk pace. I head for my chambers. I need to be alone, to burn through the rage before I face the court in the morning. Back in my bedroom, I stare at my reflection. I marvel at how I manage to look so collected under the strain of my emotions. Perhaps I did learn something in the sixteen years of conditioning not to show my hand or betray my feelings. I put my fist through the glass. It cracks and shatters under the force, cutting my knuckles. With every drop of silver blood, my rage subsides.

I don't bother with cleaning the cuts; I will have a skin healer tend to them in the morning. Right now, there is something else I want. A second release so I can ease into the general state of catatonia that allows me to sleep at night.

* * *

I let the water run as hot as the boilers will allow for. Anyone else would be scalded in the boiling torrent falling from the shower. I, however, allow it to roll over me like a warm summer rain. I lean against the cold tile of the walls. The sensations of both hot and cold play across my skin. I close my eyes and imagine Mare standing before me, chest rising and falling rapidly with anticipation. The angry red mark of my obsession with possessing her searing against her honey-colored skin. My hand closes around my swollen cock, caressing in long, languid strokes. I let the fantasy take me over entirely.

 _I force her to her knees. She looks up at me; water running over her soft skin, a pout on her lips—a picture of innocence; innocence that I will take from her. I run my fingers over her cheek, a hairsbreadth from lovingly. The tender gesture ends with my fingers tangling in her hair pulling her roughly forward to pleasure me. Her supple lips close around the head. Her tongue tickling the tip. I moan. She wraps her fingers around the shaft while her silk tongue works over me. When she finally starts to suck, it drives me into a frenzy. I pull her head in as I thrust forward. I want more than lip service. She resists, refusing to take me completely into her mouth. She grazes me with her teeth—a warning. That little spark arouses me further. Mare draws her head back slightly, teasing as she uses her hands instead. She looks up at me as if she doesn't know what her rebellion does to me. The ghost of a smirk on her lips tells me otherwise. After several long moments, she bends to my will. Leaning into me, pushing all the way down until she gags. She is relentless her eyes may be innocent, but her mouth is a where's. Within minutes she has me caught in wave after wave of rolling pleasure until I can't stand it any longer. I need to be inside her—Now. I shove her away from me, a few more seconds and I wouldn't get to hear her scream._

" _Get up." It is an animalistic growl. I push her up against the wall pressing my lips to her neck. I run a trail of possessive love bites from beneath her ear down to her collarbone. When I reach the brand, I stop. Pride and shame battle within me, neither giving or gaining any ground. I distract myself with her breasts. Cupping one in each hand, squeezing, running my thumbs over her erect nipples. I look her over; her curves are entirely too enticing. When I lift her, she invites me in, wrapping her legs around my waist, grinding her wet pussy against my pelvis. Burying myself in her is like going home. Her soft moan and the warmth of her reach a place inside me that I thought had been carved out long ago. For a moment that could stretch into eternity, I want nothing more than to lay her down and make love to her. To be gentle and affectionate. For just a moment, I don't want to break her, make her mine, I want to lay beside her be hers. The moment is lost as I pull back to thrust again. My lust conquers my fleeting devotion as another moan drips off her tongue._

 _She clings to my neck pulling herself closer forcing me deeper inside her._

" _Do you like that?" She nods. I tighten my grip on her ass. "Say it. Tell me you like it."_

" _Yes." Her moans growing steadily louder. It catches me off guard when her tongue glides along the edge of my ear. I redouble my efforts, thrusting faster, my movements sharp and small. She purrs in my ear. It's sexy, but there is only one thing I want to hear from her right now. My hand closes around her throat. It is hot from my arousal. "Maven your hurting me." Her voice is thin, breathy. Her pleasure is caught in her throat. It vibrates against my palm._

" _Say it, and I will stop." She looks scared and confused. "You know what I want, three little words and it will be over." Understanding dawns on her. Her muscles contract around me. She is about to climax. I hold her gaze. "Say it, Mare."_

" _I am yours." I release her neck and kiss her. She tastes exactly the way she did the first time. My kiss keeps her from screaming, but I feel her body tense and her back arch as she orgasms. I push through it, drawing it out. Her fingernails claw at my back drawing fresh blood. The pain sends me over the edge._

My own orgasm is powerful. I feel it in the pit of my stomach and my knees. I have to brace my arm against the shower door to keep my balance. My breath comes in quick, ragged pants. She isn't even here, and yet she exhausts me. I give myself only a few minutes to recover before stumbling out to my bedroom. I fall into bed face down, not bothering to put on pajamas or even cover myself. I know that I will not dream of her, I can't-my mother cut out my ability to dream even before I had the chance outgrow the nightmares- but not for the first time, I fall asleep wishing I could.

* * *

A peculiar tingling sensation almost like a vibration moves through my body. Its starts in my toes and moves up my legs and along my spine. It isn't entirely unpleasant, but at the same time, it makes me uncomfortable. It is enough to rouse me from my sleep, but not to do more than roll over. The tingle grows more insistent, steadily so, until I open my eyes and let out a frustrated huff. I sit up in bed and rub my temples. The tingling subsides. I could not have been asleep for more than a couple of hours. I throw back the blanket that I had managed to tangle myself in and start to get up to shut the curtains. The light of the full moon is too bright for me to fall back to sleep. Purple flares at the edge of my vision. It takes less than a second for my eyes to find her. I bite back the urge to throw a fireball at her immediately purely out of spite. But Mare does everything for a reason, and I cannot deny that I would love to know her reasons for returning. Her reasons for baiting me. Her reasons for tempting me to kill her.

"Impressive." She sounds bored. I narrow my eyes at her. My mind is running a little slowly. I watch her eyes flick down and back up to mine. A smile plays on her lips and lighting sparkles in her eyes. I cover myself; I know what she does to me. My mind flits back to my earlier fantasy. Her face, the way she looked at me plagues my thoughts.

"I suppose you are here to toy with me a little more before you kill me?" She flicks her fingers and the light next to her flickers to life. She has been practicing. I look her over much the same way I did in the courtyard. Only this time, I do it openly. She is still wearing the last dress I had made for her. With the cape lying over the arm of the sofa, the deep neckline is just as dramatic as I had hoped. The effect is stunning, made even more spectacular by how full of life she looks now. She has cleaned away the heavy makeup that made her blend into the crowd at the ball. There is a fresh pink flush on her chest and neck. The bright red "M" stands out on her collarbone, not a single inch hidden by her dress. It is her eyes, though that I find most striking tonight. The purple sparks reflected in the warm, soft brown creates a longing in my chest that burns through me. The temperature in the room rises as I fight my internal battle for control. She gives rise to a violent torrent of emotion in me. They confuse me more than anything else.

"Oh, Maven. If I were going to kill you tonight, I would not have bothered waking you." Her fingers twitch again, the tingling returns to my chest and subsides after only a moment. I watch the sparks dance between her fingers; I notice the red nail lacquer. It is painfully obvious that every detail of her appearance is for me; right down to the way she lounges on the couch with her ankles tucked under her and her shoes abandoned on the floor as if she has made herself at home in personal chambers. "I am here to make good on our deal." The statement startles me. My eyes snap back up to meet hers. _Did she return willingly? Without threat or coercion? Are the rumors true?_

"What deal would that be?" My eyes continue to rake over her. I find her gloves and mask laying on the table next to her. She has made herself at home in my chambers. I don't hate it.

"You offered me the lives of millions including my family in exchange for my compliance. They have their lives, so here I am." The spark in her eyes dares me to refute her claim. I force as much disinterest into my voice as I can.

"Am I supposed to accept that without question?" I find myself wondering how she got the scrapes on her face and hands, but the roughly handprint-shaped bruise on her arm is what sends rage soaring through me once she notices, she follows my gaze covering the bruise with her hand, what little of it she can.

"My loyalties haven't changed. And you would be stupid to not suspect me of treachery." There is silence between us for several minutes. Hot, electrified silence that threatens us both. I admire her cool mask of indifference, but she is coiled like a taut wire, ready to strike at any moment. I twist my left wrist expecting a spark, but nothing happens. "If you are looking for these," Silver glints against the wrist she has just pulled from the folds of her skirt. "I am afraid you will be disappointed." She unlatches the flamemakers with a practiced grace. It sends a bitter shock right into my heart. There is only one way she knows the trick to the latch; she has been with my brother. "What? You think I wouldn't disarm you before taking this kind of risk? I'm not stupid." She tosses the bracelets onto the bed. I reach for them, securing them around my wrists, never letting my glare leave her face.

"How long have you been fucking my brother?" If the question throws her, she doesn't show it. It is the uncertainty in her voice that betrays her.

"Not long." I scoff. I don't believe her.

"If you are trying to piss me off, telling me your sleeping with my brother is the fastest way to do it." It is little more than a sneer. The thought of them together causes heat to ripple through the air.

"The punishment later would be more severe if I lied to you now to preserve your delicate temperament. Besides, you've been married longer than I was with your brother." I don't miss her use of the past tense.

"Was? Trouble in Paradise?" My turn to bait her. I need her off balance if I am going to get anything useful out of her.

"Eternally." Her spark flickers and goes out, both literally and metaphorically. She sounds almost melancholy.

"Awe, did he choose his crown over you the same way I did?" The hurt that flashes in her eyes tells me that I struck very close to a nerve. I feel a small amount of regret for having hurt her. I wonder if my betrayal still haunts her the way she haunts me.

"Yes, he did." There is genuine sadness in her voice; she is close to tears. I want to reach out, to comfort her, but I resist. She would flinch away from my touch anyway. I might as well spare us both.

"Where is he? I'll kill him for hurting you." The words, surprise me as they fall out of my mouth. She gazes at me with glassy eyes. I should have protected her better.

"I don't know." She never breaks her gaze.

"Liar." I remember back to when she first came to the Hall of the Sun. She and Cal had an uncanny knack for running into each other _unexpectedly_. They were almost always aware of where the other was in the room or the arena. She probably does know where he is; she is just protecting him.

"I'm not lying. I really do not know where Cal is. I ran after…" She bites her lip letting her words trail off. I surprise myself with my capacity to show her mercy, not pressing her for further answers; answers that will clearly upset her. "I won't lie to you, Maven." She is careful to meet my gaze. I can only hold it for so long before I get the urge to squirm and I can't abide that. Instead, I throw the blanket back again and go over to the closet to put on some clothes and a little bit of dignity. I don't glance back to see if she watches me before disappearing through the door, though I desperately want to know if she is. "It's too bad that you have let Lord Samos and his family slip through your fingers twice now. I'm sure Volo knows where he is. After all, he did betroth Evangeline to Cal again in exchange for support for his claim on your throne..." I pause midway through pulling the shirt over my head. I ignore the flash of anger. _Is she leading me into a trap or willingly handing over information to help me?_

"Why should I trust that you are not leading me into a trap?" The Newbloods in The Guard camp told me weeks ago that Mare ran away. I assumed that It was false information they were fed because none of the sightings of her were substantiated. When I step back into the room, she is standing amidst the shattered glass looking at herself in the cracked mirror. I see myself standing behind her. We lock eyes among the wreckage of the mirror. Both of us broken pieces of a whole, struggling to put ourselves together in the right order. She turns to face me _._ I watch her every movement as she sets the silent stone manacles in the pool of soft golden light on the table. My heart twists I walk over, paying no attention to the glass beneath my feet. This is the closest I have been to her in months. She smells like magnolias. She holds out her wrists to me.

"Since you don't trust me." She glances at the bracelets. I don't. I turn my left hand, palm down and compare my cuts to the one on her palm. Hers, red and weeping, mine silver and irascible, both self-inflicted. I pull my hand back behind my back and look away from her. It is only to keep myself from touching her. "I left the other two where they were; it was too much to carry all four." She is quiet, and her voice quivers. She is playing me; toying with my feelings for her. She knows that I don't want to see her waste away under the oppressive stones, I told her as much. She also knows that it is working. The more of her vulnerabilities that she offers me, the more the knife of her forgotten affections twists in my open wounds. I push the bracelets further away from her.

"Why are you here? Really. No bullshit answers about our deal." She looks at me defiantly.

"Because this Is where I can do the most good. Fewer people have to die as long as I am here." She hesitates for only a moment before continuing. "I know what kind of pawn I am here. I know how I will be used, and what is expected of me. The Guard can't offer me that." That was not the answer I was expecting.

"If you do anything— _anything—_ that seems even remotely duplicitous, the silent stone will be the least of your worries. Do you understand me?" I force as much malice and venom into my voice as I can muster. She nods. "You will do as you are told. You will say what you are told to say. You will act as though you are a proper court lady when you are by my side. Understood?"

"Yes." There is strength and resolve behind her words. I believe her.

"Yes?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." She smirks as she notices that my gaze has dropped from her eyes to her lips. "Is there something else you want, Your Majesty?" There is a lilting taunt in her voice. I step closer, leaning down as if to kiss her, nodding my head slightly.

"The names of everyone who helped you get into the palace. I want to thank them properly for bringing you home." She tilts her face up, nearly brushing my lips with hers. Her breath is sweet and mint.

"I assume you will torture my accomplices before you kill them?" The game she plays is not our usual cat and mouse, but I like it. It ups the stakes, making both of us even more dangerous to the other.

"But of course, my dearest." I grab her around the waist and pull her toward me closing the distance between us. To my surprise, she doesn't flinch. Heat crackles through the air. She places both hands on my chest.

"I hate to disappoint you but," her voice drops to a husky whisper. "I did it on my own. The only one you get to torture is me." Her eyes are almost seductive in the low light. Not to be outdone, I trail my hands down her body and squeeze her ass. Her breath catches in her throat. Her surprise does little to satisfy my growing fervor.

"I know you wouldn't dare lie to me, being as how I just graciously granted you a comfortable life in my favor." She raises up onto her tiptoes. Her soft lips graze my ear. My mind once again returns to my erotic imagining of her. I am fully engrossed in the delusion when she replies.

"I have been in and around the city for days. Biding my time, looking for a way in the would not get me shot on sight. If anyone, you should thank the Scarlet Guard, it was the attack on the power station that allowed me to walk in through the front doors unnoticed." Before I make the conscious decision to do so, my hand closes around her neck. Just enough so she can still breathe but not comfortably. _It was a ploy. She was sent here to kill me. Oh, my brother is good, but I am better._ My heart races. It is the arousal, not the rage that fuels it. She doesn't struggle against me. Instead, she stays very still, waiting for me to speak. I don't. "Maven," She is perfectly calm on the outside, but her heart beats in time with mine. I feel it in the pulse points on her neck and in her chest, which is still pressed against me. "All I did was take advantage of the opportunity when it presented itself." My grip tightens. I do not believe her.

"How did you manage to be out of sight for two days?" She relaxes the muscles in her neck forcing the words out at great effort.

"I feel the currents. I stayed out of sight of the workings cameras." Her eyelashes flutter as her lips start to turn blue.

"And the courtyard?" My question goes unanswered. Mare goes limp against me before I finish asking it. I lift her and lay her down gently on the side of the bed that remains cold night after night. I lean in close. Looking for signs that she is breathing again. It is shallow, but it is there. I draw my finger down the side of her face, carefully avoiding the still healing cuts. Her hair falls back away from her face. I lean in and let my lips hover over her temple, but I am too ashamed to kiss her. I pull away.

As I sit vigil by her bedside for the second time, I hate myself. I lashed out at her in anger; leaving swollen purple bruises on her neck where my fingers crushed the life from her. I scratch at the cuts on my hand. Ripping them open anew. A trade, physical pain for psychological. It is an old habit that has grown steadily more persistent as of late. I let the blood drip down my arm as I rest my temple on two fingers; rubbing in circles until I fall asleep.

* * *

 **Mare's POV**

When I regain consciousness, I am groggy and disoriented. The sun has just started to peek over the horizon. My neck is stiff, it aches all the way up into my ears, and it hurts to swallow. It takes me several moments to realize where I am and how I got there. I sit up quickly, turning my head in a way that jars my muscles. I stifle a painful yelp as I notice Maven asleep in a chair next to me. Just like the last time he tortured me into unconsciousness. I resist the urge to kill him here and now and be done with it. No one knows I am here yet other than the Kyra and the newblood shadow that moved me through the palace last night unseen. But there are more important things at stake than my vengeance.

I peel back the blankets and make my way to the closet as quietly as possible. I reach in a pull out one of the twenty or so identical black button front shirts and put it on over my dress. I look like a harlot in this dress. After what I was going to do last night in it, I feel like a whore. I pick my way through the broken shards of mirror to the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind me. I look terrible. There is makeup caked under my eyes my hair is a matted mess, the gray ends now clearly visible again. My eyes are red and veined, no doubt a little side effect of strangulation. The bruises, though; the bruises are a gift. Five purple and yellow reminders of what he did to me that I will put off allowing a healer to touch for as long as I can. I want him to see it, to feel it every day until they fade. I pick up the brush and pull it through my hair before washing the residual makeup from my face.

There is a knock at the door. I pull the collar up around my throat, gingerly holding it closed before I open the door. A ghost of a smile crosses his elegant features, briefly lighting his eyes as he takes in the sight of me. I assume he is admiring his handiwork from last night. However, when his eyes find mine—bloodshot, concern snuffs out the light.

"Does it hurt?" There is a resignation in his voice that I have never heard before. Is it even possible for Maven to feel remorse, let alone express it? I open my mouth to respond. To say yes, it does, but I can't say anything. My eyes water from the pain. I squeeze my eye shut and nod slowly, tears streaming down my cheeks. Usually, I would suppress the tears and the pain, preferring not to show my weakness to my greatest enemy, but today, my weakness is my greatest weapon, and I press my advantage for everything it is worth. "I'll send for a healer." He starts to turn away, but I let go of my collar and place my hand on his arm. I hope he can't feel my revulsion as I do. He turns back. I bite my lip and look at him with pleading eyes. The collar has fallen open just enough to see the bruising. He looks everywhere but at my neck. Confusion clear in his eyes.

"Please don't." My voice is little more than a rasping whisper, cracking and shattering as I force it from my ravaged and swollen throat. The effort sends more tears sliding down my face. If I didn't know any better, I would say Maven looks heartbroken. _He can feel remorse._ I watch him absently claw at the wounds on his hand. I reach out to stop him. The way he looks at me, he could be the boy that carried me out of the training arena. He could still be the boy that wanted to protect me. I shove the thoughts away violently. _No. He can't be._ Not anymore.

I press past him jumping lightly over the glass. I pick up the pen on the desk and write it out for him.

" _The court doesn't know I am here. I don't want to put anyone in danger. I'll recover fine on my own."_ I hear him behind me reading over my shoulder as I write.

"You won't be endangering anyone." There is a softness in his words that again sends me spinning into my memories of him before his betrayal. I still miss that boy.

" _What about you?"_ The heat coming from him is not the usual raging inferno I have come to expect from his violently changing moods. It is a soothing heat, the kind that a person could relax into for comfort. The kind that I sought from Cal in the middle of the night back at the notch. I back away from the comparison. Now is not the time.

"I won't hurt anyone for knowing—" I turn to find him close behind me, closer than I had anticipated. The collar falls open revealing the evidence of his abuse. His hands tremble as he looks at me. I look up into his eyes and force the words out; wincing with every syllable.

"It might hurt you." The stunned look on his face mirrors the way I feel at having said it. I thought the hatred was all I had left. I was wrong.


	5. Ordinary Day

**Author's Note**

 **Hello Darlings,**

 **This time, I thought I would play around a bit with introspection and third person perspective. Comparatively, this chapter is light and easy—a little reprieve from the action if you will. :)**

 **There are no trigger warnings for this chapter outside of the usual.**

 **As always, Tread Carefully and Happy Reading.**

 **Cal's POV**

I didn't feel the same heartbreak watching her sprint off into the night as I did when she left me alone on that balcony in Corvium. Her last kiss was not a searing cold that made me feel frozen, numb, unable to process what was happening before my eyes. This time, she gave me a sense of hope that will probably strangle me slowly. I don't know which is worse, being destroyed in an instant and having to find a way to move on, or having my destruction drag out into the infinite. Either way, I end up in agony.

Instead of heading straight for Delphie, I stay put, fighting against every instinct I have to follow her and protect her. I tell myself that I want to be sure that she made it into the city before I take off. I knew it would be difficult to leave her, but I didn't think it would paralyze me quite like this. I want to trust her to handle herself, but I can't leave her unprotected-without my protection. I grapple with whether or not to break my promise to her.

My brother is far from the man I thought him to be, but I am confident that he will not kill her unless provoked. What terrifies me is the idea that I will not get back the same woman who left me last night. He will not give up until he breaks her. I have seen it in in the way he pursues his desires. Where I was a soldier, Maven was a hunter; his sport played within the walls of court. At fifteen, he became the hound that bit after the foxes. There wasn't a girl at court that he didn't taste if he wanted to. Mare will be his most prized conquest. I thought the glint in his eye was the thrill of the chase, but it was the capture and the blooding—the violence of prey caught in his snare, subject to his whims-that is what excited him. The only chance she has is to break him first; to be the fox that bites the hound. That too will change her, but I have to assume that the latter change will be better than the former.

I can't sit still or stay calm. Not knowing if the woman I love is alive and well inside the palace walls, or looked in a silent stone cell beneath the Bowl of Bones makes me fidgety. I used to find comfort and solace in the hum of an engine, but tonight, I can't even keep my hands steady enough to tinker with the engines or turbines. Instead, I pace wearing a track across the ground with scorch marks to complement it. My mind spins wild scenarios of Mare's fate; going so far as to imagine her running into his arms—all too happy to return to him. The embers of bitter jealousy from the time he did have her affection still glow in the pit of my stomach. I cannot forget that at one time, she thought of Maven more than me. There is one thought, though that keeps the cinders from igniting. _She loved me_. She took my hand danced with me. She screamed and fought for me while I was in the custody of the guard. She has given herself over to my brother twice to keep me alive. _She loved me_.

I am so lost in my thoughts that I nearly jump out of my skin when the radio crackles to life. It is set to the same frequency that the Kings guard use. The connection is terrible. It's distorted, and the static makes it difficult to understand. The signal is as strong as I could make it, I am just too far out of range. The broadcast is a relay of an official order to find Mare and bring her in alive. He wants her found by tomorrow night. There had been no chatter about "sightings" of her over the past couple of weeks from the Capitol, this had to mean that Maven has seen her himself. If he has, she is in the palace. I allow myself a relieved sigh. I hadn't realized I had been holding my breath until I let it out.

Unable to stand it any longer, I zip the front of my jacket and pull the hood up, shadowing my face even further in the light of the full moon. I have made my decision and feel no remorse breaking my promise to Mare. She need never know that kind of risk I would take for her. I need to be there in case she underestimated the depth of his rage. To pull her out if she is in too deep.

I reach Grey Town about an hour before curfew. I push my way through the crowded streets. It is the end of the second shift. Tired people are trudging their way home, or enjoying their vices before the mandated curfew forces them behind closed doors and shuttered windows. I slip past a two-man patrol by keeping pace with a group of men who shuffle towards a bar with stooped shoulders and eyes staring blankly at the road beneath his feet. I enter the bar with them but split off as soon as I am inside. I find a table in the corner of the room that allows me to keep an eye on both doors and the screen mounted high on the opposite wall. Conveniently, only half the lights in the bar are working tonight, and this corner is particularly dark. I listen to the low hum of conversation. What I hear intrigues me, her ridiculous plan might actually be working. Three substations in Grey Town were sabotaged today; only one of which was prepared by the Scarlet Guard; the other two were carried out by rioting workers. Since it sits next to a major manufacturing facility, the bar is garnering power from its backup generator. The proprietor is smart enough to only siphon enough energy to keep about half the lights on and the continuous broadcast from the capitol.

Right now, the scrolling feed at the bottom of the screen reads that there has been no formal response from the King or his Council on the power station attacks. A single official statement from the Department of Energy said only that the attacks were little more than a nuisance and citizens should have normal access to their lec rations and regular supply of power in twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Maven is trying to convince the country that he is not worried about the small attacks from the guard. He should be, though. If the riots escalate, loss of silver life in rural areas will increase at an alarming rate.

A voice that sounds a lot like mare's nags at the back of my mind- _You should be worried about the loss of red lives and the quality of their lives as ardently as you are about the silvers._ I don't push the thought away. _What kind of King do I want to be? Do I even want to be King?_ My mind wanders back to the argument we had yesterday morning. She had asked me why I wanted to debase myself by being a puppet King. The question had blindsided me. One minute we had been arguing about why she wouldn't tell me how she planned to get close to my brother, and the next she is accusing me of allowing Nanabel to manipulate me and put me a position to be a king controlled by outside forces—namely, her.

Of course, Mare has no idea the kind of government I would set up in the ruins that my little brother leaves behind. She never bothered to ask what plans I had made, or what options I had considered for rebuilding the country in the wake of rebellion and all-out civil war. I had resisted the idea of being the King that ripped the country apart, but since Maven had done it for me, I now have the opportunity to be the King that brings the country together, heals it from the foundation up. She has no idea of the reforms I plan to roll out, the kinds of power I am willing to relinquish all for the sake of the people-all of the people. I watched the anger roll through her when my only reply was to remind her for what we could accomplish together. I had told her I would not say it again that I wouldn't ask her to be my queen, but she had me on the defensive, and my mouth is faster than my brain in those situations. When she scoffed and stormed off, I gave her some space before following to apologize. She is so blinded by her desire not to be trapped in the invisible cage of the monarchy, that she does not realize that she will always be in one cage or another; just like the rest of us.

I catch sight of the bartender making his way over, I stand and drop a couple of copper coins on the table. Before he reaches me, I start toward the door on the far side of the bar and stumble out into the street like a drunk. I keep my head down as a patrol officer pushes me out of his way, assuming that I am a just a drunk red. The streets are almost clear now. I make my way back to the Capitol River with every intention of going back to the airjet to sleep. There had been no mention of Mare in the newsreels in the half hour that I was in the bar. If she had been captured or killed, it would be the only thing the broadcasters would be talking about for days. When I reach the riverbank, instead of heading southwest, to safety and a kept promise, I turn northeast, toward Archeon.

* * *

The tunnels that lead into the city, under the walls, are flushed ankle deep with water this time of year. They are also never guarded. They have been forgotten. Since they were built solely for wartime evacuations when the walls themselves were built, they have never been used for their official purpose. They are now used only by myself and smugglers—whistles and by extension, the Guard. The tunnel lets out in a secluded section of the market district. It is disguised as a butcher's salt cellar and smokehouse. It baffles me that no one else has stumbled upon the tunnels, as the smokehouse is never in use.

The sun has risen, and the shops are starting to open for the morning. The streets are quiet, but the day's crowds will soon be out en masse. I scowl at my reflection in the diamondglass window of a milliner's shop. I admonish myself for making such a rash and dangerous decision. The only rationalization I can offer myself is that I need to be certain that she is alive and well. I hear her in my thoughts again providing a rebuttal. _If you don't leave now, you never will. You will always find a way to rationalize staying._

Walking through the streets of the city that used to be my home hurts more than I thought it would. The shops that I would have wandered through looking for mechanical things to disassemble and reassemble, seem much further than a few feet away. The rows of townhouses typically occupied by the extended families of high houses, stand dark and shuttered. It is unusual that they would be, given that court is being held at Whitefire. I had heard the rumors about Maven's court of children, but I had assumed that they had been exaggerated just by virtue of their being rumors. It seems as though they had not been. There are few house banners waving in the light breeze. And even fewer signs of life.

I cut down an alley and go around the back of the row of townhouses. The patios and small balconies of this row overlook the rushing river. The green spaces and gardens back up to low garden walls and gates and cobblestone retaining walls. I am only interested in one garden, though. Father had always kept the house and grounds in good repair, but since his death and my exile, there had been no one to keep it up. In the last year, it has become overgrown and is in desperate need of a good weeding. As I lean on the garden gate looking at the yellow roses that climb along the garden wall—untamed, I notice muddy footprints on the stone path. They lead to the door. Someone has been here. The thought makes my blood boil.

I throw the gate open and stride down the path. The prints are light and close together. The person who made them had small feet. What throws me is that only one set of boot prints leads into the house, but two, one of which being a pair of high heels, lead out. The stairs to the back door creak under my weight. I climb cautiously; in the off chance that anyone is still inside, I want to catch them by surprise. The doorknob turns in my hand; the catch makes a soft click before door swings open. I take in the ghostly sight of my mother's childhood home. Stepping inside and closing the door behind me, I no longer care about being quiet or seen. I could probably handle anyone who may be lurking.

Julian had brought me here a few times as a child, but I never had a full appreciation for it until now. Yes, I had missed my mother, but having no memories of her made it easier on me that those who did. It was rare if ever that anyone mentioned her. Nanabel spoke of her more often than anyone else, but she didn't know her the way that I wanted to know her. It hurt father too much to think of her and Julian just got angry when asked. I learned at an early age not to press for answers. _What is the pain of a broken heart when compared to the needy curiosity of a lonely child?_ I blame my watery eyes on the dust in the air.

There are more prints in the grimy carpet that runs from the door, down the hall, and up the stairs. Whoever made the tracks walks only on their toes. Mare does that when she isn't wearing shoes, but she is so light on her feet it is possible that her heels never touch the ground. Off to my left is a large sitting room, all the furniture covered by thick white drop cloths and dust, no one has been in here I'd quite some time. The same applies to the kitchen to my right; I follow the tracks up the stairs. Only two of the rooms look to have been disturbed. When I walk into my mom's bedroom, the answers click into place for me. _Mare was here. But not for long._ She probably cleaned up and disguised as a silver lady once more. The remnants of her costume still lay on the table under the mirror. Mare hated wearing that makeup as much as I hated seeing her in it. I much preferred the natural pink flush of her cheeks to the dull gray flush I grew up seeing. In my eyes, she looks more alive, more vibrant than any of the ladies at court. The first time I saw it was also the first time I was the moth instead of the flame.

"Mare said you would end up here eventually." I turn to find a red woman standing in the doorway. She leans casually against the frame as though she is familiar with me. I know I have seen her before, but I cannot place her. "I insisted that you weren't that stupid, but here you are." I chuckle to myself. She is right. I open my mouth to introduce myself properly, but she holds a hand up. "As far as I'm concerned, we never met." She pulls a small book out of the folds of her dress and holds it out to me. I don't move. "It's from Mare. She said to tell you she is fine and everything is on track." I take the book from her, it's unfamiliar, a novel with a faded yellow cover. It is old, but the noticeably free of signs of reading.

"I don't understand." The young woman shrugs. "Thank you, though." She turns and leaves without another word. I thumb through pages careful not to break the virgin binding. A familiar scent wafts up from the pages. The book is from Julian's library. And is probably the only book in there that he had never read. When I reach the title page, I understand why. It was a gift to my mother, just before her death. Tucked just inside the cover is a note. Her handwriting is terrible, but I would know it anywhere.

" _Her journal is hidden under the mattress, but you will find less grief hidden on the bookshelf. Stay Safe."_

I take Mare's advice and make no move to find her journal. Taking a long second to appreciate a trait that I never knew I shared with her. I had always been assured that my mind worked so similarly to hers. Taking apart and putting together all the moving parts before me—mechanical or tactical. The only ones I struggled with were social. It is nice to know, that she too committed her thoughts to paper and worked through the puzzles keeping only her own council. Instead, I browse through the leather volumes on the shelf at eye level. They look fairly standard for the bedroom of a Lady. I don't understand why Mare thought I would find my mother in these books. I glance down, perhaps what I should be looking for isn't at my eye level, but hers. Sure enough, one shelf down, one book has broken the line of dust. I hook my finger in the spine and pull it out. The weight is wrong for the size of the book. I sit on a nearby ottoman and let the book fall open on my lap. The pages have been hollowed out and inside are various technical manuals. A warm feeling blooms on my chest. I leaf through them feeling closer to my mom than I ever have. _Thank you, Mare._

It is early in the afternoon when that noise of a growing crowd in Cesare's square wakes me. I had not realized that I had fallen asleep and wake with a start. There is a dull ache behind my eyes; I haven't been asleep very long. I push my heavy limbs out of the chair and brush the loose debris from my clothes as I cross the room and open the window pushing the shutters open just enough to see the square. It looks like half the city has shoved its way into the plaza; that means a royal announcement. The screens have already been set up, and I can hear the feedback in the speakers. It reverberates in my head. If they would trim the wires and switch to one directional microphones, they could eliminate the squealing and the buzzing. I smile at the picture of mom and Sarah next to the window. My heart squeezes.

I close the shutters and explore the rest of the room. I take extra care as I move the drop cloths and dust covers. I don't want to disturb anything. I want to see it as she saw it. Tucked away inside her jewelry box is a little black box with a note written in my father's sharp angled handwriting. The single word on top is my name. I pick it up with trembling hands. The box is clad in velvet and soft under my fingers. It is bigger than a ring box and looks like it would hold a set with multiple pieces. I set the box down and step away from it the tightness in my chest feels like panic. I fight the influx of emotion, pressing down on them until I can breathe again—it is neither the time nor the place for me to explore my grief.

I look up when I hear the herald announcing the arrival of the King for his address. I sprint for the window, throwing open the shutters and searching wildly for any sign of Mare. I don't know if I expected her to be on the steps of Whitefire for the address, but I am both disappointed and relieved that she is not. Instead, my brother stands with his wife flanked by a legion of sentinels. I scrutinize the image of my little brother on the giant screens behind him. He is taller now, leaner. The crown he wears is not our fathers. It is simple black iron with red gems that wink in the sunlight. The points of the crown, the licking flames look razor sharp, even from this distance. What catches my attention is that Maven's posture is rigid and he makes no move to touch his wife. In every other public appearance I had seen broadcast, Maven held her hand or kissed her cheek, In response, Iris Cygnet wore the appropriate expression for the gesture. Today, though, she stands with her hands clasped behind her and her back straight. The expression she wears is tight and curt. Her eyes look almost angry. She would be out of his reach even if he did make a move to touch her.

I step away from the window as the crowd cheers for their King. I scoff. I figure the impromptu press event will be about Mare and judging by what I have already seen, Mare is in the palace, and the Queen is not happy about her reemergence. I am concerned about Maven's lack of emotion, but I take it as a good sign that Mare is alive and well; otherwise, my brother would be a wrathful mess right now. I never coaxed Mare into giving me the details of what she went through as his prisoner the first time, but her vehement insistence of his feelings for her speaks volumes at this moment. Instead of listening to him welcome the crowds, I carefully put the room back the way I found it. I put the novel, the box, and the picture of mom and Sarah from the frame in the pocket of my jacket. After closing the window, I turn back and take one last long look at the room. Next to the makeup on the table is Mare's Guard scarf, the one she wears tied around her wrist. I snag it from the table and tie it around my own wrist as I leave the room.

Out in the street with my hood pulled up, I make my way towards the square. I am glad that I haven't shaved in nearly a week and my hair is too long, it will make people dismiss me more easily. I have decided that I am going to leave the city, but not before I make one more stop. The techies in Grey Town inspired me to wreak a little havoc of my own while I am in the city.

As I ring around the outside edge of the crowd, I lift a pair of wire cutters out of the open and unattended toolbox of one of the events workmen. Further down the line, I snatch a pair of insolated gloves. As I walk calmly through the crowds, I catch snippets of Maven's speech. _"Miss Barrow." "Significant victory." "Interrogation."_ As I loop around behind the recently attacked and woefully ungraded substation, the sound becomes muffled, and I lose interest. Before stepping into the range of the cameras, I cover my face with my Guard scarf; it is just a precaution. Judging by the lack of security officers outside, I am willing to bet the officer in the security office is watching the address instead of his monitors. I take the risk of not cutting power to the camera with my lifted cutters.

Through the aluminum door, I can hear the hum of the transformers inside, I, however, do not hear any movement. I melt the deadbolt until it is soft and pliable before kicking the door open, shearing the bolt in half. As I glance around, the damage the Guard did to the substation is apparent. Cesare's square was left relatively unharmed compared to other substations around the city. Rolling blackouts and brownouts are more frequent the closer to the outer edges of the city you get. It is supposed to look as though the resources are being used by the elite while the commoners suffer. It is a blatant manipulation on the part of the guard, but it is working.

Most of the debris from the attack has been cleared away, and patches have been made until the wiring can be repaired completely. I find the main controls and flip them from the automated system that regulates this section of the grid into manual control. It is supposed to act as a failsafe if the automation fails. Once the currents are under my control, I strip the insulation from the massive lead cable and clip individual wire clusters close to the base of the breaker box. I take the extra time to fray the ends for good measure. Next, I study the readouts of voltage and current strength. I adjust the controls. In a few minutes, several of the transformers on this grid will become overloaded and explode. On my way out, I toss the batteries from the rooms two fire alarms in the garbage bin and set fire to it before kicking it over. I stifle a chuckle. I am officially a terrorist.

* * *

I make it back to the airjet just as dusk is starting to settle among the trees. I run through the events of the afternoon as I do my preflight check.

 _I heard each of the Transformers blow as I made my way back to the smokehouse. I glanced back to see the pillars of black smoke rising into the air. The screaming of terrified people rang in my ears while I waded through the ankle-deep water in the tunnels. I dodged several patrols and guardsmen as I made my back to the airjet. They were in search of anyone connected to the Guard or anyone who even looked suspicious. I am both of those things._

 _While in the tree line outside of Grey Town I encountered a two-man unit. They almost looked too young to be Kings guard. They are on patrol from the red village I passed less than a mile ago._

" _Hey, you! Stop." I don't stop. "Hey, I said stop." This time I do, careful to keep my head down and my eyes averted as they approach me. Neither of them wears identifying high house colors. They must be common silver. Shit, I don't know what I am up against. I shove my hands in my pockets. "What are you doing out here? Reds have been restricted to their homes until further notice." The one on the left makes a move for his handcuffs. I could let them cuff me and escape later, but I am more than a little pressed for time right now._

 _I drop to a crouch and kick the feet out from under the Guard on the left in one sweeping motion. Using the leftover momentum to swing into an uppercut on the chin of the one of the right as I stand. Neither of them was quick to react; neither is a swift, and the one on the right probably isn't a stoneskin. Not that it matters, he is out cold from a single strike. The remaining guard is struggling to get to his feet. These men are not adequately trained and would be dead if they came across any of the actual Scarlet Guardsmen stationed in this area. I take mercy on them and go for incapacitation rather than kill. While the young man is still on his knees, I get behind him. Pinning his arms behind his back, I press the heel of my free hand against the artery in his neck, just below his jaw. Once he is unconscious, I lay him down gently. Neither of them stood a chance against me. I shake my head as I sprint away from them._

With my check complete, I settle into the pilot's chair and set my course for delphie.

* * *

 **3** **rd** **Person POV**

Anabel Lerolan is a force of sheer will. The former Queen holds her power quietly, exerts her force subtly, and never shows her hand before every bluff has been called. She is made of strength and compassion that has been tempered in the flames of the monarchy. Though she still mourns the death of her only son, she presses on, determined to name his true murder—Elara Merandus. Tonight, she stands in front of the vast windows of her estate, waiting for her grandson to appear on the horizon. It is a pipe dream, though; should Cal choose to make his way home to her estate, she would not see him coming. He is too cunning to allow that.

Premier Davidson informed her a few days ago that he had made the impetuous decision to run off with that red girl—the one he loves so desperately. Davidson had expected it, but Anabel assumed that Cal had better sense than that. She drums her fingers on the windowsill, wondering if her family would still be intact if that girl had never fallen into the arena at Queenstrial. There was no doubt she was impressive in battle, fearless, even, But Anabel would never forgive her for making her boys weak and reckless.

She is well aware that love is a curse that relentlessly follows Calore Kings. In their three-hundred-year history, love has prevailed over politics four times. Kings who knew their duty and made the appropriate sacrifices for their kingdom married for power and took a consort. Her own husband had been among the latter, taking a consort to please both his heart and his proclivities. It is no secret how fiercely Calore Kings love when they find it, but loving a red girl? It was unheard of, verging on treasonous. While it is true that she is gifted, she would never be a suitable Queen. Julian had mentioned that this girl is remarkably similar to Anabel's late daughter-in-law, Coriane, but Anabel doesn't see it. This girl is a corruptive, corroding force that will tear down the crown. In time, she will need to be dealt with.

Anabel turns away from the window and the view of Delphie's cityscape. She has no doubt that is Cal fine, but still she worries-Maven would see his brother in chains and set to execution for a second time if he caught him. She suppresses a bitter smile; both of her grandsons could not be more different. Cal is nothing if not his father's son. In every way that matters. Both burning hot, trained to be men of action, men of war, men of honor, men who feel with a deep fervor. But Coriane is his heart, his smile, his curiosity and humility. Maven, on the other hand belonged wholly to Elara. Everything of her son that Anabel had once seen in that boy what twisted and broken by that wretched shrew. Anabel never liked Elara, but hated her turning such a sweet little boy into such a brutal monster with her whisperings.

Anabel tried hard to remember the bright-eyed boy who picked the flowers from her garden when he came to visit, who needed a light left on to keep the demon in his closet at bay. She regretted that she did not insist that the boys be allowed to visit her more often, that she had not done more to protect both of them from Elara's vice-like grip. Elara Merandus was a scourge and her death would be the one thing that Anabel would thank Mare Barrow for.

Something on the screen over the fireplace catches Anabel's attention. It is a replay of the announcement the King made early this afternoon. She hadn't bothered to watch it, as she assumed it had to do with the power station attacks by the Scarlet Guard, but the scrolling feed at the bottom edge of the screen said otherwise. _"King announces the safe return of known terrorist and traitor."_ Anabel motions for the servant nearby to turn up the volume.

"Last night, Scarlet Guard ally turned spy, Mare Molly Barrow returned once more to the Capitol. She escaped the Guard once again, bringing with her intelligence that could prove vital to defeating the rebel force and restore peace to our nation. Miss Barrow was taken from royal custody in the terrorist attack intended to kill both myself and my beloved Queen on our wedding day, though the assault was unsuccessful, the crown lost a valuable asset that day. Her reemergence is a small, but significant victory against those who would rip the fabric of this country apart." The image cuts to a live feed of a girl in a cell. She looks rough around the edges, but otherwise well. Vivid bruises ring her throat like a necklace of savage jewels. Anabel has no doubts as to how she came by the girl came to have them. Mare makes a good show of looking pitiful for the camera. "Under interrogation, which I have personally overseen, Officers have verified the truth of all the information she gave over freely upon her arrival early this morning. It is my belief that Miss Barrow, is free of the affliction and predilection for inciting violence and civil war within our borders. It is my wish that the citizens of Norta welcome her back without prejudice." When the Camera returns to her grandson, Anabel can't help but acknowledge the brilliance of the scene unfolding before her. It makes her wonder what kind of influence this girl has and if she has been underestimating her for far too long. "In her time in the Capitol before her kidnapping, Miss Barrow was an asset not only to our fight against terror, but also a champion for the acceptance of gifted reds and the advancement of rights for the red population. I look forward to the progress that can be made with her safe return into royal custody." The broadcast continued, but Anabel had heard enough.

"Turn it off," Anabel demands. The red man standing quietly nearby jumps to attention, acting on his orders swiftly. Anabel sees no need for the advancement for reds, but it is the direction that the country is moving in and she also does not see the need to expend the effort required to combat it. Her silence on the matter is tacit approval. "Wake me the moment my grandson arrives." With that statement, she leaves the room, heading to bed for the night, stopping for just a moment to look at a framed photograph of herself and her boys hanging in the hall outside her bedroom.

Just before dawn, there is a knock at the door. A female servant enters a moment later.

"My apologies ma'am, but he has arrived." Anabel pulls a robe on over the pajamas.

"Make sure Simone feeds him and let him know that I will be down in a moment."

"Yes, ma'am." The servant girl closes the door quietly. Anabel takes a moment to brush her long silver hair and plait it over one shoulder. She is anxious to see Cal, but family or no, she cannot be disheveled when she does. She slides her feet into slippers and pulls the robe tight around her, tying the belt a little tighter than normal. She takes the stairs quickly and enters the dining room with a smile on her face.

The man standing in front of her, refusing breakfast, is not the same man she saw two months ago. Something about him is different. Anabel can't quite put her finger on it is, but she blames that red girl for it, whatever it is. Anabel wraps her oldest grandson in a tight embrace. Even though she is an impressive woman, Anabel does not even clear his shoulder.

"Oh, Cal, you look exhausted. After breakfast, it's straight to bed for you. Do you hear me?" It is a stern grandmotherly tone that makes Cal smile.

"Yes, Nanabel."


	6. The Light & The Dark

**Author's Note**

 **Hello, Darlings.**

 **Sorry for the delay, life got in the way. I hope you are enjoying the story.**

 **This chapter is free of any hard trigger warnings, only language, and some light violence.**

 **As always, Tread Carefully and Happy Reading.**

 **Mare's POV**

The weight of the silent stone gets worse with every exposure. My blood feels thick and sluggish in my veins. I can feel the cold in my bones. It hurts. You would think that over time you would build up a tolerance to it, but no, each time it gets worse. The effects come faster and take longer to wear off. Two minutes in that cell and I already wanted to be sick. After an hour, I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and sleep until death takes me over. I let it happen. I close my eyes and let unconsciousness take me over, knowing that it will bring the nightmares—The guard that stands inside the door will do little to protect me from my inner demons.

 _He hated the idea even before I finished scratching it out on the paper._

" _Absolutely not." I pull my knees up and lay my head on them. I look at him with imploring eyes. This morning his edges don't seem so incisive. I know they are still sharp and will cut me if I squirm. His softness scares me as much as his other moods. Softness never equals safety with him. I watch him pace on the other side of the desk. I haven't given him enough time to decide what to do with me, how to spin it for the court and the country to accept the return of his pet. "Don't look at me like that." I turn my head. I find no comfort in the sea of red silk that is the skirt of my dress. His footsteps stop, and he sighs. "I wish you would let me summon a healer." I raise my head. "I want to present you to the people as their ally returned, unharmed." His eyes travel to the spot on my arm where the bruise Guardsman gave me lies hidden behind his shirt. His eyes all but burn through the soft black cotton. I pick up the pen._

" _You're the King; you'll do what you want, I have no voice in the matter." The laugh he gives at the terrible pun is a sound I have not heard in a long time. Not harsh, not forced, or fake, the beginning of a genuine chuckle that dies almost as soon as it starts. There is a twinge in my chest reminding me that I miss it. That twinge turns to a cringe as I realize that he is laughing at having almost killed me. When I look back up into his face, it seems like there is something he wants to say, but he keeps his mouth shut. "Present me however you want, but if you do it with me in a cell looking as though I've been interrogated, you'll placate the court before they know they need it and the people will respect you more." I can't put a name to what I see it his face as he reads the hastily scribbled words. There are too many things to see, passing so quickly. It startles me when he suddenly turns on his heel and strides out of the room. He tells me not to leave this room as he is shutting the door. I hear him hesitate—probably deciding whether to lock the door—before his footsteps head off._

 _While I am alone in his bedroom, I look around. I don't know what I am looking for exactly. I know he wouldn't keep anything important in here. Nothing that would help me help the Guard, but there might be something in here to help me help myself, or Cal. The thought burns my heart—Cal. In my searching, I realize there is nothing personal in here. There is nothing that is not expected of a King. My mind wanders back to Cal's bedroom; to the books and the armor. He existed in a state of perpetual organized chaos. Everything in there was who he is. This room has nothing. The art on the walls has nothing to do with Maven, nor the books on the table under the shattered mirror._

 _It isn't until I pick the lock on the bottom desk drawer with the letter opener, ; I I find anything all that reminds me that he is still human. A set of once blank slim leather bound books. I pick up the one on the top. The writing is small but each letter is perfect, or they would be if the ink weren't smudged from his hand skimming it as he writes. I forgot that Maven is left-handed. He leads with his left foot while dancing and strikes from the left first when fighting. When I open to the marked page, a scrap of red cloth falls to the floor. It has tiny, delicately embroidered roses on it. It's mine. A little piece of something Gisa had made. I pick it up and rub the silk between my fingers. Heavy footfalls pull me back to the present. I put the cloth back and drop the book closing the drawer quietly just before the door opens._

 _Maven looks almost surprised that I am still here. I wonder for a moment if the thought he imagined the whole thing. My face starts to feel warm as he stares, I have to look away. I focused on the guard and the red girl that followed him in. The guard isn't an Arven. I feel more relief than I care to admit. The red girl looks terrified. I want to smile at her, but I am afraid to give Maven a reason to kill her should I misstep._

" _Mare." I snap my head up to meet his eyes. He holds out a small bowl to me. I eye it suspiciously. "It's ice cream; it will soothe your throat." I raise my eyebrows in response. "Just trust me." I give him a rueful smile and shake my head slowly, wincing at the pain in my stiff neck. A wave of heat breaks over me like a whitecap on the storm-tossed sea. It recedes just as quickly as it came. I hold my hands out. The bowl is still cold when it touches my fingers. The contents have almost completely melted though. I pull the spoon out of the goopy mess and watch it drip slowly from the spoon. Maven finds something humorous in my expression. I make a face at him. The laugh grows more robust and with it the warmth in my face and neck. I taste the thick and cold liquid; it is sweet on my tongue. It still hurts to swallow, but the cold makes it easier, marginally. I avoid his face as I finish the ice cream._

" _Thank you." My voice is still a rasping whisper, but it doesn't hurt as much. He snaps his fingers, and the red girl steps forward holding out a small stack of folded clothes. I follow him with my gaze when he turns to the Sentinel. The young woman wears the colors of house Tyros—a mimic._

" _When she ?, escort her to the cells inside the palace. Do not let her out of your sight." He glances back at me. "If any harm comes to her, I will hold you personally responsible. Am I clear Sentinel Tyros?" She gives a curt nod, not saying a word. While he is distracted, I stand and make my way around the desk, keeping on my toes. When he starts to leave, I reach out and entwine my fingers in his. It is the left hand, the hand with the bruised and bloody knuckles. He blinks several times as I draw it closer, studying the cuts the same way he had mine last night. I wonder what he thought as he securitized my wounds. Does he recognize the intent, the pain in me? Does he know how much of it he is responsible ; it?_

 _I am used to seeing blood and bruises on Cal; he refused to be healed of minor injuries. I admired him for it. I had since the beginning—since the first time I saw the purple and gray blossoms on his abdomen. That was the night he took me home. He had answered the door shirtless, and my breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight of him. All hard planes, deep cut lines, and sinewy muscle. Neither he nor Maven had noticed the heat rising inside me, up from a place I had scarcely acknowledged before the hot tingling flush erupted from it. That memory had kept me warm on many nights before Cal could do it himself. My eyelashes flutter as I think of my love._

 _Maven's fingers graze my cheek. The touch could almost be tender, were it not twisted by his obsession. I give myself a mental shake and tear my eyes away from his hand to meet his burning blue gaze. The feeling in my eyes is for his brother; I don't blink it away. I allow him to assume that I am feeling for him. His hand trembles in mine. My mind again wanders away from the present, this time to the sad boy wishing that I had felt for him on the eve of his wedding. I run the fingers of my free hand over his wounds, the tips barely brushing his skin. The act is the cruel twist of a blade._

" _Visit the healer. Please?" The pitiful sound of my hoarse voice only adds to the weight of my plea. There is a flash in his eyes as if he might break, but it is gone too soon, and instead, he scoffs, pulling out of my grasp and heading for the doors._

" _I will, my dearest. I will." He forces the words out from between his teeth slamming the door behind him and damning me to a silent stone cell without knowing what he might be planning._

I come slowly back into consciousness; nothing has changed. I close my eyes again; they throb in time my pulse. I count the beats. _One. Two. Three. Four... Five... ...Six_... My head drops to the cold stone floor once more. _I won't forgive him for this._

* * *

 **Maven's POV**

When I left her this morning, I was inches from fury. I wanted to rail at her for her insolence. She had the audacity to ask me to see the healer while refusing to be healed herself. _Does she think that I don't know the game she plays with me?_ She wants me to suffer for what I've done to her, and well I should. I deserve her scorn, her wrath, her vengeance. I allow her to punish me because she is the only one who can. I left the room to spare her my pernicious outburst. I feared that I would harm her again. _I can't. No, I won't harm her again_. I release my clenched fists. As I look down at her now, her face pale, her breathing shallow from the oppressive silence, my rage dissipates.

"Tyros. Open the cell." I cannot believe the repentant voice I hear belongs to me. Regardless of my tone sentinel Tyros is quick to act. She pushes the cell door open and steps aside, anticipating my next move. Her eyes scan the room but never look directly into my face. She dips her chin as I pass her. I kneel beside Mare. "Have the Captain issue orders that all nonessential personnel is to be dismissed until further notice. Make sure the Queen is secured and confine everyone else to their rooms until power has been restored." She nods and leaves, taking the stairs two at a time.

I stare down at the withering woman in white on the floor. The silent stone made her physically Ill, and she looks as though she will turn to dust in my hands. Five hours under the stone was too much; I should have come for her immediately. As I gaze at her, my eyes find the ear that she pierces every time she is separated from someone she loves. She had explained the meaning of each stone to me once, how her brothers gave one to her and one to her sister when each left for the front. Two new earrings are now nestled with the others. I wonder who the other two belong too. I assume that one of them belongs to the boy in the guard; what was his Name? Killian? Kilroy? Kilorn. That was it. The red one though, that one had to be my brother. Bitter jealousy boils in my stomach. It did not matter how he—my perfect brother betrayed her; she would always love him. I hate him for it all the more.

I push the hot anger away; It is not for her. I lift her into my arms and stand. She is like ice, and her pulse is weak. Steady, but slow and faint. Once we are free of the stone's hold, I wrap her in a gentle heat. Her head falls against my chest, and I settle her in closer. I look up to find that Sentinel Tyros has returned. I hadn't even heard her. I should promote her.

"How long has she been asleep?"

"Since thirteen hundred hours, Your Majesty. I checked on her every quarter hour. I was prepared to move her should her vitals drop any lower." I look into the guard's face for the first time. I try to arrange my face into a neutral expression.

"Good work. Clarisse, isn't it?"

"Yes, Majesty."

"Come with me, Clarisse. I have a job for you." I ascend the stairs slowly, mindful of my steps so not to rouse the sleeping darling in my arms. My heart beats a little faster when her delicate fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt. She clings to me; I relish it. I take her to rooms far closer to mine than could be considered appropriate. I want her near me. She eases the dull ache in my head, fires my passion, and has been the only person to make me laugh in several years. How cruel my mother was to deprive her child of laughter.

"Someone is to be with Mare Barrow at all times. I want that to be you, Clarisse. I will assign others of course, but you will guard her." Mare stirs when I speak, but settles back into me. I smile sincerely for the first time in months.

"Yes, Majesty." I lay her down in the pillows and tuck the blankets in around her. When I start to pull away, her fingers still grasp my shirt. I smooth her hair back and pull away gently.

"I've missed you, My King." Her voice is dreamy and far away, her breath deep and even once more. She sleeps and knows not how she torments me. Tyros follows me out into the sitting room.

"I want to know if there is any change in her condition. Report to me and no one else." She gives another curt nod. "Bring me a list of names suitable to guard her while you cannot." I catch her wrist in my burning hand. "You are the captain of her guard. If anything happens to her, I will kill you myself. Understood?" I can smell her skin starting to burn at my touch. She makes no indication that she even feels it. I respect her for it.

"Yes, Your Majesty." I release her. "Thank you for the honor, Majesty. I am undeserving."

"Do not disappoint me."

* * *

I let myself out and make the short walk back to my chambers. In the seclusion of my bedroom, I unlock the desk drawer and pull out the latest in the long line of leather-bound books. My thoughts and feelings bleed from my fingers and into the pen, seeping into the page, committing themselves to the finite world from the infinite expanse of my restless mind. _I've missed you, My King._ The words spin inside my head making me dizzy and nauseated. They flow from my pen with a vengeance that rivals their speaker. _I've missed you, My King._ A scrap of red fabric twirls in the fingers of my right hand. It does nothing for me now that I have touched her skin once more. _I've missed you, My King._ Mare is a hellacious mistress. I need her. _I've missed you too, My Queen._

When the sun starts to sink below the horizon; red girls make their way through the palace, lighting hundreds of candles and distributing ornate gas lamps with oil colored to look like jewels. While the door is open, I hear what could have been a woman's scream, but it is muffled and repressed. I assume someone startled a servant girl in the fading light. Several seconds later a red girl comes running in, breathless and visibly shaking. She keeps her head down and mumbles something unintelligible. I give an exasperated sigh.

"Well? What is it. Spit it out." The standard bored and emotionless tone with which I would typically address the reds is nowhere to be found, it has been replaced with an impatient growl that only makes the girl cower even more. She starts to mumble again. "Louder, girl. What is it?" the noise that escapes her is a terrified cry, but in it, I catch a name— _Tyros._

When I brush past the girl, sprinting from the room, she cries out again. I notice, but I can't muster the intent to care. The sound is more distinct in the hall, it is certainly coming from Mare's room. When I push the double doors to the sitting area, I can already feel the static charge in the room; it raises the hair on the back of my neck. But it is the harsh sound issuing from the bedroom that provokes my dismay. When I throw the doors open I find Sentinel Tyros on the floor. She is out cold, obviously shocked by one of the errant bolts of purple electricity in the air. I turn the sparks to fire and extinguish them so I can get closer.

She is still asleep, but miles away from the tranquil slumber I left her in. She thrashes and screams, the sound of which has been contorted into ghastly wail by her raw and swollen vocal cords. The clamor twists inside my chest, it would rip my heart out completely if I let it. She is trapped in a nightmare. I have no idea what I am going to do when I approach her. I have no frame of reference for even dealing with my own nightmares, let alone someone else's. I get on my knees next to her and put my hands on either side of her face.

"Mare. Mare. Wake up. It's only a dream." It is a concerted effort to be gentle, but I am getting frustrated. I grab her wrists in an attempt to hold her hands still; effectively making it worse. She jerks out of my grasp. Her eyes open wide, warm brown shot through with terror. "What were yo—" Her fist connects with my face bringing with it a shock that singes off p _art of my eyebrow and leaves a substantial burn under my eye. It also sends me sprawling backward onto the floor. "Fuck that hurt. What the Hell, Mare?" I stand up, gingerly touching the now blistering burn. I wince. "What the Hell was that?" When I look over at her again, there is fury in her eyes and tears on her cheeks. Sparks dance between her fingers. "I'm sorry."_

"You're sorry?" It is a decimated whisper that rips itself from her lips. More tears spill from her eyes.

"Yes." There is so much I could say after that, but three of my guards enter the room, weapons drawn. "Stand down." They close ranks around me shielding me from the scared girl. "I said, stand. Down." Heat ripples off me as the sparks ignite in my hands. I grab the Sentinel closest to me, A Telky whose name I never bothered to learn. "Get out. All of you. Take Tyros and get her to a healer." I shove the guard away from me. He stumbles. "And send me Larissa Skonos. Immediately." The Guards are slow to react. They are trained to close ranks and defend their King. But the growing heat motivates them after only moments of hesitation. The Strongarm carries Tyros out of the room I follow them out with my eyes. The sound of running water draws my attention again. Moments later mare emerges from the bathroom. She steps up onto the bed walking to the center and dropping to her knees. She beckons me over. I don't falter. I haven't decided if I want to hold her or strike her. Either way, I have to be close to her to do it. She leans in close to me.

"This is going to hurt." I tense. I have no Idea what is coming. The hoarse whisper of her voice sounds almost menacing, but she presses one hand to the uninjured side of my face and a cold washcloth to the burn under my eye. Her eyes never leave mine. I recoil from the sting at first but lean into her touch-which would be tender if there wasn't a satisfied smirk on her lips. The cold water soothes the angry wound, but her touch does more than the water ever could. She closes the remaining distance between us. I could touch her if I were so inclined, and I am. I raise my hand but let it fall back to the bed. I can't. I am thinking about kissing her, the lushness of her pink lips gives me courage for yet another false start. I turn my face against her palm. The rough fabric scrapes the burn, tearing open a few of the blisters. I inhale sharply. "I'm sorry. I'll be gentle" I rest my hand over hers.

"It was my fault, I moved." She dabs gingerly at the blood and puss. There is a knock at the door. Neither of us moves. The door opens and Larissa Skonos lets herself in.

"I was told my services were required. What can I do for you, Your Majesty?" Mare releases my face. I hate her for it. When I look at the little blonde silver lady, her eyes go wide and her hand flies to her mouth. But she strides forward and bows her head. "May I?"

"No. Miss Barrow first, Lady Skonos."

"But, Your Majesty, Your burns—"

"Are you questioning my orders, Lady Skonos?" My voice is low and dangerous.

"No, sir." She turns to Mare who has sat back on her heels. Mare pulls the collar of her shirt down revealing the bruising. I clench my fist and cannot watch while Larissa heals her.

"Thank you." A weight lifts from my burdened heart when Mare speaks normally again. I raise my head, and Larissa turns to me. The healer's hands are ice-cold as she lays them on me. She steps away moments later with her eyes on the floor.

"Will there be anything else, Your Majesty?"

"No. You are dismi—"

"His hand." I glance over at Mare. "Unless you weren't planning on keeping your word..." I hold out my left hand, and the healer makes quick work of it before turning to exit the tense room.

"Lady Skonos." She stops and whips around, fear in her eyes. "Sentinel Tyros, will she live?"

"Yes, Majesty. She recovered from electrocution very well, and she is resting comfortably."

"You may go." She almost makes it to the door, but I stop her once again. "And lady Skonos," She stops, one hand on the doorknob. "tell no one what you have seen this evening."

"Of course not, Majesty."

I hear both doors close at almost the same time. Larissa having exited the through the main doors and Mare, having disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. The shower starts moments later. If she thinks she is getting off that easily, she is sorely mistaken. I kick off my polished black shoes and settle myself into the pillows, lacing my fingers behind my head. I glance around the room. I had had the stewards pull things from storage and put a room fit for Lady Titanos together this morning. Except I substituted red for Titanos purple. Mare will hate it, but I don't care. She belongs to me, and this will serve as her constant reminder of my affections. My searing, smothering, obsessive affections. When the water shuts off, I am staring blankly out the window watching the sun set behind the tree line.

"Is this revenge for waking you up last night?" I glance over at her with a sly smile, but when I catch sight of her, I have to lift my head at take her in fully. The pink dusk outside pales in comparison to the delicate flush of her skin from the hot water. Her damp hair pulled into a braid that falls over her bare shoulder. The Ivory towel that is wrapped around her leaves little to the imagination and everything to be desired. I sit up a little straighter, leering at her honey legs.

"If we are torturing one another, I think one of us is ahead of the curve." She shrugs making the towel slide down her breasts the tiniest bit. I hold up one hand in a gesture of precedent. A hint of a smile tugs at on the corner of her mouth. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch her disappear into the closet. After a few minutes of silence, I get antsy. I have never been good at waiting, and waiting for Mare is excruciating.

"Is the silence because you hate it, or because you hate that you like?" There is no answer. My impatience gets the better of me. I walk over to the closet and peek in. "Well, which is it?" She turns to me, the skirt of her nightgown fanning out around her thighs.

"Neither. I just like them. I hate what they represent, but they are beautiful." She trails her and over the rich assortment of fabrics. I feel a kind of relief that she admires them. "You could look at my face instead of my body occasionally, you know." I look up. I can feel the heat on my neck, I am sure there is a gray flush around my neck and ears. The smile on Mare's face lets me know I am right. She is the only person I know that makes me feel my age. I don't want to be the king when I am with her. "Why, your Majesty, I believe you're blushing." I turn away. Irritated at myself for giving her insight into my vulnerabilities. She knows how to play with me, but now she knows what I will let her get away with. She follows me back out into her bedroom. "Maven, why are you here?"

"You were screaming." I try to keep my voice flat and emotionless. It is a practiced façade. I use it with the nobles every day.

"Why are you still here?" She isn't accusing. In fact, she almost seems laid back, comfortable.

"I'm curious why." She raises an eyebrow at me.

"Nightmare."

"Obviously." I am surprised that how much I want her to confide in me; not to use it against her later, but to find out if I can still connect with another person—with her. When I look at her, her arms are wrapped around her middle. "Would you tell me about it?" She looks at me with genuine surprise.

"I don't think I should." Everything about her screams her hesitation. I take the risk to press for answers.

"Please?" That stunned look crosses her face again.

"You won't like the answer."

"Why? What is it that haunts your dreams?" I study her face, lingering on the scared look in her eyes. I have no intuition, but I know what she is afraid of; me. I can't blame her or expect her to feel what I want her to feel in one day.

"Not a what, a who." She fidgets nervously. She even takes a couple of steps back. "It's you. The people—children you killed, and the ones you have promised to kill. All because of me" Her words ignite a conflict in my soul. One side is my need to hold her to love her, the light. The other the anger and hatred, both for myself and the world, the darkness. Two desires at odds, two sides of my nature battling for control. This is my mother's legacy. Not a son to be King, but a man who cannot tell the difference between thoughts that are his own and thoughts that stem from the persona she created. The thoughts scream in my head. I lose sight of Mare until she speaks again. The nightmares are a side effect of my last extended stay under your protection. I also can't sleep alone, hate the feel of things around my wrists, and I cannot trust anyone." I fight, trying to contain the anger, but I seethe, my breathing is harsh and ragged. She steps back again. It hurts me to see her so afraid of me. The hurt is fuel for the flames.

Though I make no conscious decision to do it, I hurl a crystal vase of white roses at the wall. It shatters into a spray of silk petals, thorns, and razor-edged glass. It is nowhere near her, but it adds to her fear. _I don't want to be this man_. I am so distracted, that I miss the change in her. I don't see her move, I don't feel her touch until my arms are already around her holding her close. I have no idea what motivates her to console me, but I will take her affection wherever I can get it.

"I don't want to be that man." I whisper it into her hair. She doesn't move or respond. "I don't know who I am. She never let me be my own person before she started molding me into a King. How do I know which thoughts are mine and which are a product of her medaling?"

"The voice in your head that wants me to fight back, that doesn't want to dominate me, that is you." No one has ever held onto me as tightly as she does now. I cling to her too.

"How do you know?" I hear the threat of tears in my voice; they sting in my eyes. I try to reign in my emotions; I cannot be this weak in her presence.

"You told me there were certain kinds of love that Elara could not erase. If you truly loved me once, it's still buried in there somewhere. You just have to be strong enough to find it." I lose the tenuous grasp I had on my anger and shove her away violently. She hits the floor hard. I'm silently thankful she has the good sense to stay down and not challenge me. Neither of us would be happy if she did, she may even end up dead.

"Do not toy with me Mare, You will not like the consequences. You play a dangerous game and you know how much I need to win." When she meets my vehement gaze, it is with large doe eyes. When she speaks, it is with a voice that could shatter even diamondglass. It cuts through me like the shards of glass that litter the floor. Small shallow cuts that are meant to wound but not kill.

"I want the boy that kissed me on the Capitol River, the one who needed my love as much as I needed his. I want him back." My shoulders slump. "But if he doesn't exist even in the fragments of your twisted mind, then you may as well burn me alive too." The force of her words hits me in the gut like a Strongarm in close combat. It knocks the air from my lungs and threatens to make me sick. I don't even want to fight back. She knows exactly how to hurt low she has to hit to bring me to a level where she has an advantage to press. _Thomas_. This is not a skill Cal taught her; he never mastered the politics and mind games of court life to the same extent that he did hand to hand combat. This was me. Every moment I spend with her is an exercise in psychological warfare and she, as with everything else, is learning quickly.

"Mare, I—" She pulls herself up from the floor but keeps her distance. I am itching to pull her close again, but I know that I can't, there is too much tension.

"I'll help you. If you'll let me." The candles are the only light in the room now. Their glow against her skin is alluring I want to say yes. I want to give her what she wants, to make her love me again. But I can't make myself do it. The word will not form on my tongue.

"I don't know what to say." She takes a step closer. And another. Before I know it, she is close enough for me to smell the hint of magnolia on her skin. It stirs something inside me. I shove my hands into my pockets. I don't trust my hands not to reach for her. Nor do I trust my anger not to push her away. The constant back and forth of my emotions has given me a splitting headache. I can hear the blood pounding in my ears.

"Say you will try. Please, Maven?" I almost don't hear her over the pounding in my ears. It subsides when she wraps her arms around one of mine. I look down at her.

"Alright. I will try." She rewards my compliance with a smile. One that I haven't seen since before the attack on The Hall of The Sun. I let my mind wander back, to think about how different things would have turned out if Mare hadn't provided my mother with such a perfect plan to make me King. _Would I have ended up married to her? Would I have found a way to happy? Could I still?_ "Mare?"

"Hmmm?"

"Is there anything I can do to ease your nightmares?" She looks taken aback by the question. I shouldn't be surprised. Only minutes ago, I was no more than an abusive prick. I'm sure her head hurts just as much as mine does from my mood swings.

"You could make sure I don't sleep alone." There is a flutter in the pit of my stomach. _No. She couldn't mean... Could she?_ "I said that all wrong. What I meant was, you could post a guard inside the room while I sleep." I nod once. "Or if you feel like trusting me, you could stay."

"No. I couldn't. It would be inappropriate." I stumble over the words. They are at odds with my desires.

"So is keeping a human pet. Made even worse by keeping her in the rooms of the King's sworn Consort." She lets go of me and climbs onto the bed. "Did you think I wouldn't figure it out? The view from my window is the same as the view from yours."

"It's where I thought you would be most comfortable."

"Liar." She's right. The mask of nonchalance has never worked on her. I make my way to the door.

"I have someplace to be. I will send a guard in later. Try not to electrocute this one." I look back at her over my shoulder.

"I make no promises."

"Goodnight, my dearest."


	7. Consequences

**Author's Note**

 **Hello Darlings,**

 ***TRIGGER WARNING***

 **In addition to the standard language warning, this section has a graphic description of self-harm. Again, if you are struggling, reach out. You are not alone.**

 **I have placed a warning in the text, should you care to skip over that section.**

 **As Always, Tread Carefully and Happy Reading**

 **Mare's POV**

My role in this game has changed. I am not the caged bird I was the last time I was granted the King's hospitality. Maven has given me a measure of freedom. His trust is not yet implicit, but he will fall soon enough. He allows me to venture out and roam the corridors and gardens as I please so long as I am escorted by my guard. Clarisse is my favorite; she says little, but is cordial enough and doesn't scowl when I speak to her. Above all, she is loyal to the King, and takes her position as my guard with all seriousness, keeping close to my side whenever I pass near members of houses who are vocally opposed to my return to the King's Grace.

My freedom is a test. Maven is watching to see whom I associate with, newbloods, reds traitorous silvers who will support Cal's bid for the throne. He is looking for a reason, and I am loath to give him one. I keep to myself most of the time, silently preferring it to the vapid exchanges that dictate court life. Most days, I choose to stay out of sight unless summoned— which happens far more frequently this time around. In the nearly two weeks I have been here, he has sought me out every day at least once, but usually twice. He has also kept me close at hand for the daily parade of court business and state functions. Showing me off to the people, assuring them of my loyalty to the crown and the promise of my advocacy. I nod, smile, speak little more than the words he has fed me, But I watch him too; I study him, looking for cracks and fissures to exploit. The most obvious your his aloof disposition toward his queen. But it is too soon to fracture the house in such an obvious way. Instead, it must look organic. Inevitable. I need to be as faultless as possible for Cal's sake.

At Maven's behest, the nobles are to treat me as they would a lady of a high house. Of course, they do not. They step aside as I approach, preferring to follow with their eyes, whispering to one another. I smirk as I pass. I'd rather not invite them to become familiar with me. I prefer the fear that accompanies uncertainty. I let my sparks speak when one of them dares meet my eye; always careful to keep my threat visible. When the young Lord McCanthos complains about my aggressive nature, I watch Maven smile behind his hand while feigning annoyance with me. There is no intent behind the reprimand he gives me, and everyone knows it. I step down from my position at the King's left hand and drop into a deep curtsey, showing off the deep cut neckline of my dress and bowing my head in exaggerated submission.

"I apologize, Your Majesty. I will do my best to not frighten your nobles in the future." When I stand, I give both Maven and Lord McCanthos a smile. When I reach the step up to the dais, Maven extends his hand to me I take it, allowing him to help me onto the platform. Had it been Cal, I would have refused, but Maven, he needs me to need him. He doesn't break eye contact as I approach, hunger glitters in his eyes. I give him a demure smile.

"Get out of my sight McCanthos. Don't come back until you've grown a spine." When I resume my position, he does not release my hand. I steal a glance at Iris to find her glaring at the place where I fingers entwine. I allow a low voltage arc of purple electricity to streak across the back of my hand. When the arc reaches Maven's skin, the spark turns into fire, completing a circle that chases its tail across our threaded fingers, turning from purple electricity to blue fire as it twirls and dances. I hear her scoff off to my right. I smirk openly, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

"Your Queen disapproves.' I gently pull out of his grasp and straighten up. I feel a small pulse of heat against my arm. He is annoyed. I lay my hand on his shoulder twirling my little finger in one of his curls. He cools. Another quiet snort of derision from Queen Iris. Maven turns his glare on her.

"Is there a grievance you would like to settle, my darling wife?" the chill in his voice matches the cold smile on his lips. A hush falls over the courtiers in attendance. Their whispers had not gone unnoticed during the regular day's proceedings, but the room is oddly still now as they wait with baited breath for a royal spat. There is tension in his shoulders, though he looks un-phased. I tighten my grip and knead his shoulder with the heel of my hand. To keep myself from pressing the nerves in his neck too hard, I close my eyes and imagine that I am at the hand of my King, relieving his tensions. A dull ache blossoms in my chest. I release the vision and open my eyes.

"No, my love." She drops her gaze to the floor as she speaks. "I would, however, ask your permission to take my leave to dress for dinner." The is no question, no submission in her voice. It is a thinly veiled command to release her. Maven studies his bride.

"Of course. Have a pleasant afternoon." As he says it, he reaches up and covers my hand with his, stilling my movements and daring Iris to react. She gives nothing but a tight smile before making her quiet exit through a side door. I wonder if she can feel every eye in the room on her back as she disappears through the door. "You are also free to go if you wish." I look down at him.

"If it pleases you, I would rather stay." I force as much neutrality into my voice as possible. I hate standing here for hours on end, listening to the nobles drone on endlessly. I had been hoping for more newbloods to arrive, but there have been none. He releases my hand and brushes my fingers away.

"Very well. Show in my next sycophant." A tall man with a shaved head strides into the room and sweeps into a deep bow. A stoneskin.

"Majesty, we have finished our investigation into the substation attack early last week. Even after a thorough review of the server footage, we unfortunately never saw his face. He was smart and kept his head down and hood up." The heat rises again. The ebb and flow of Maven's emotions and subsequently the temperature are like breathing with him, constant and expected. "However, we now know that the fire was started by a burner and the lock was melted before the blaze." _Cal_. That power station being hit a second time had not been part of the plan. So, I had assumed it was Cal's way of saying goodbye. As long as Maven thought the Guard was responsible, I was safe. That security is now slipping away before my eyes. "We were able to track the terrorist through most of the city, but we lost him in the Market District." With every word, the heat in the room grows more uncomfortable. The air is thin. It is making me lightheaded and dizzy. I reach out to steady myself and find hot stone under my fingers. "Two Kingsguards were found incapacitated outside a nearby red village, their statements insist they were attacked by the exiled Prince." The sentinel that stands before me has no idea that he has probably sealed my fate.

"You three," He points to a group of sentinels near the door, two of which are Arvens. "escort Miss Barrow to the council chamber." I step down from the dais once more to meet the guards. I don't struggle or resist, but I sway from the insufficient oxygen. Vice-like hands grip either of my arms, roughly steering me away. "Someone summon Delilah."

Once in the hall, I gulp down several deep breaths of oxygen saturated air. The weakness, however, does not subside; the silencers ensure that. They shove me inside the council room. I stumble across the floor claiming a position near the diamond glass windows, as far away from my Arven guards as I can get. It is several minutes before the doors are thrown open and the raging inferno that is the King blows in like a firestorm. The blue fire in his eyes makes the brand on my skin burn and itch. I grimace and press my fingers to the phantom pain. The woman that accompanies him keeps her distance. She is avoiding his aura of heat, well she should, the king is dangerous in this state His rage would burn the city down if he let it. I can read how close he is to losing control in his face and there is nothing I can do to pull him back before this woman forces her way into my mind and rips the truth out destroying everything I have sacrificed myself for. Professions of my innocence would fall on deaf ears, so I keep my mouth shut.

"Leave us." He growls, and the guards obey. He turns his menacing gaze back to me. "Sit." I do. "Be a good girl and don't resist Delilah's interrogation. If you do, it will hurt more." I say nothing. "Is there anything you want to tell me before she starts her questioning?" I turn my head and address Delilah. She is a delicate-looking blonde woman maybe somewhere in her thirties. She is small, like me, but she is thin and lacking in muscle tone. She looks meek.

"I killed your brother, Samson." She blanches. "It was revenge for his torturous interrogations and for trying to use me as a weapon against someone I loved in the Wedding Day Assault." I keep my voice even. The look on her face tells me that she understands the threat. Maven sneers. His lips curling into a cruel smile.

"Speaking of my brother, where is he, Mare?" Delilah takes the hint and moves around the long council table. She stands in front of me, resting her weight on her hands on either armrest and peering into my face. Her eyes are a shocking shade of blue-green.

"I don't know." I grit my teeth.

"Liar." Little does he know, this is one of the only things I am not lying to him about. I look directly into Delilah Merandus' eyes.

"I do not know where Tiberias Calore is." She stares back intently. I know she does not need to look me in the eyes to wield her power, but the effect is mesmerizing. I don't want to break eye contact.

I feel her probing through my memories. She is not the rampaging butcher that her brother was. She holds back, shifting through my memories looking for specific things. It is less painful than Samson, but slower and more uncomfortable than Elara. I don't push back against her very hard; just enough to discover that I can guide her away from specific memories. It is a small window that I take full advantage of. Maybe this won't end as badly as I thought it would.

"She is telling the truth sire, she had no idea about the attack nor does she know where the exiled Prince is." Her voice is a cold echo of Elara. I dig my nails into the seat cushion. Hate and anger rise in my chest. The savage turn in my emotions startles me. This woman has done nothing to me, yet I want to claw at her eyes for being kin to the former Queen. I feel the fabric give under the assault of my fingernails.

"fine. I want to know what she knows about the Scarlet Guard and their plans." Delilah's skills are not as developed as those of her kin, both of whom were killed by me. I can and do hide things from her. I show her the base in Peidmont, but nothing to indicate where it is. I show her Davidson and the Guards ties to Mortifirt, but none of the newbloods or their training. I show her empty safe houses that I have visited in my travels. The one thing of consequence I do show her is my memory of the meeting after the battle of Corvium. I am however careful not to show her Anabel Lerolan. I focus on the traitorous families, making sure to point out the ones that did not openly rebel against Maven on the night of his attempted assassination. I concentrate on the spies from families that he believes are loyal to his crown. They are names I gave him when I arrived. Names that were to convince him that I am not working for the Guard from the inside. Since he has not acted on the information that I gave him, this should serve as confirmation of my veracity.

In the moment, I also decide to show her my conflict over my feelings for the King. I show her my hatred and his abuses, the physical and the mental. I also show her my how I miss his laugh and his smile, the love I had for him. It is a struggle in my soul not to kill him and be done with this whole thing. Every minute spent in the company of Maven complicates and confused my feelings even more. It is easy to hate him when I am alone, easier still when he is on his silent throne. But when we are alone or even alone in the crowd, I feel a pressure in my chest and a swirling in my stomach that feels a lot like nervous anticipation-anticipation of a touch or a smile. I am disgusted with myself for the silent confession. I let her see everything, almost. I hold back the angry red lines hidden on my thighs the evidence of what my choices do to me, the consequences of my internal battle and my intent to murder the King.

Finally, for good measure, I show her the deaths of Elara and Samson. As she watches her brother die in a hail of fire and electricity, her breathing becomes ragged. And harsh. She gasps and cringes. I feel for her. I know the pain of watching your brother die. The only mercy I can muster though is only showing her once. It is far kinder than what her brother offered me. He forced me to watch Shade's death over and over until he reduced me to a sobbing, snotting mess. A broken husk of a person.

When I feel her leave my mind, I let my body slump as if her invasion had been physically taxing. I breathe more deeply than I need to and pull my knees up making myself small. I peer over my knees at Maven while Delilah whispers what she found. I can't know for sure what she is telling him, what she deems Important, but I notice a chill in the air now that the heat is gone. He wears no emotion on his face, but the chill doesn't lie.

"Thank you, Delilah, you may go." For a moment he almost sounds like he is being kind to her. She is his cousin, but I doubt that he feels any real affection for the woman. He had no love for Samson, why would he for Delilah? She inclines her head in a show of respect before turning on her heel and taking her leave. She is clearly pleased with herself and her job-well-done. I can't bring myself to hate Delilah, she was just following orders, and she wasn't malicious about it. Comparatively, she was gentle.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, not quite knowing what to do with his hands. He opens his mouth several times but never says anything. He is acting his age, nervous, unsure, awkward even; as though he doesn't know how to act on his feelings. It is a welcome change from the cruel arrogance he usually wears like a suit of armor. He straightens his spine and takes a step toward me, I turn my head and fix him with an angry glare that rivals one of his own. He stops, frozen mid-step. It pains me to do it—this is what I wanted from him, something real, something honest and raw—but I take the upper-hand and bring it down in a hard smack. If he was taught me anything, it is that my words are just as damaging as my lightning.

"May I be excused, Your Majesty?" I push the question put through gritted teeth. I don't want him anywhere near me. Using a whisper to interrogate me, while expected, is a violation that I will not forgive quickly. I need to get out of this room. Before I lash out at him and surrender my position of power. The look on his face is a few shades off from defeat. He knows the line he crossed and my penchant to hold a punishing grudge, that he lost ground in gaining insight. He motions his assent but remains quiet as I run from the room. Just after the door closes, there is an exasperated yell and a loud crash. Clarisse pulls me out of the way just before two Sentinels bowl me over to get to the door. I turn to her.

"They should have given him time to cool down. They don't stand a chance against him right now." Clarisse raises her eyebrows but doesn't respond. Several seconds later the sentinels re-emerge; shoving each other through the door to get away from the boy King's tantrum. Their uniforms smoke and smolder, and one is missing part of a patchy mustache and a sideburn. Clarisse and I both chuckle to ourselves as we head back to my chambers.

*** **TRIGGER*****

I spend the rest of the day locked in my bedroom. My anger and contempt toward myself and my actions overrun my thoughts. During my last stint in captivity, I expressed my feelings by destroying things, dishes, books, anything I could get my hands on. Since then, I have discovered a less noticeable and more satisfying way to relieve the pressure of my fury. My heart hammers in my chest as I pull the hem of my sundress over my thighs. I hold my breath as I do it. I draw the blade across the fleshy part of my inner thigh. The pain is nothing compared to the relief that follows. I cut a little deeper than I had intended to, causing blood to run more quickly than I anticipated. I grab the cloth that my knife is usually wrapped in and put pressure on the wound. It takes too long for the bleeding to stop. The fabric is soaked in a flood of crimson tears. I wring them out with cold water in the sink. I watch the pink water swirl away down the drain, carrying away the pain in my heart, that is until the wound is ripped open a new by my clawing thoughts and vicious emotions. I stow the Knife back in its hiding place in the closet.

***End***

I am pacing the length of the room when there is a quiet knock at the door. I take several deep breaths before opening the door. To my surprise, three red girls stand there holding baskets. One of the girls is Kyra. I step aside for them to pass.

"Clarisse, what is this? He can't expect me to attend his dinner this evening, can he?" I wanted to err on the side of caution and avoid Maven for the next few days, I don't want to put my mission at risk.

"He is the King, he expects everything. This, however, is from Her Majesty Queen Iris. She asks that you be her guest at tonight's affair." I stare questioningly at her back as she returns to her post out in the corridor. The girls stand with their heads bowed waiting for me to give them orders.

"Well, I certainly don't need three people to dress me. You two may go." The two girls scurry out of the room quickly. Kyra doesn't lift her head until the door is shut. When she does, she gets to work immediately. I paw through the baskets. One holds makeup, the second holds jewelry, the last is a pink satin dress. A light blushing pink—a color not associated with any High Houses.

"If you would please get in the shower miss." She sounds nothing like the spirited woman I met a couple of weeks ago. The is quiet, and her voice is almost musical. It does not suit her.

"There are no cameras in here. You can drop the act." She glances up and looks around quickly.

"Really?" Her voice hardens, and she sounds skeptical.

"Yeah." She narrows her eyes at me. "I manipulate electricity, I'm sure." I give a demonstration with the lights.

"Aye... Alright then." I nod. "That's enough small talk for me. You should shower, quickly." There she is. This is the Kyra I met and admired. After my shower, I am careful to keep my robe adjusted as to not let Kyra see neither the fresh nor the barely healed cuts. I let her push and prod me into the semblance of a lady sans the white powder.

"He was there, just like you said he would be." There is no emotion in her tone. I look at her in the mirror.

"I know. He was the reason those transformers blew up. He put me in a lot of danger going off on his own like that." She gives me a knowing look. "Predictably reckless." I say it more to myself than to Kyra, but she nods in agreement anyway.

"But you love him though, don't you?"

"More than anything, but never enough." She gives me a sympathetic look.

"Alright, get dressed." If Kyra sees my wounds while helping my into my dress, she doesn't say anything. I am grateful that she doesn't.

The dress is far more modest than anything in my closet. It fits tight around my neck and chest, but the skirt is full. Kyra puts my hair up, tucking in the gray ends so they can't be seen. When she is finished, I look like the antithesis of what the King prefers. I look soft and demure. There is no drama or appeal in the look, only innocence and a bit of sparkle from the colorless stones sewn into delicate flowers on the bodice of the dress. When the sunlight catches the stones, they throw a riot of colors into the room. Tyros knocks and enters the room.

"You are expected in the banquet hall in ten minutes, Miss Barrow."

"Thank you, Clarisse. I will be out shortly."

"I shall wait for you in the sitting room." She bows out, closing the door behind her. Kyra completes my look with raindrop shaped earrings made of the same stones that adorn the dress.

"That's is as good as it's going to get." I level my gaze at her.

"I'm glad you think I'm beautiful." There is raw sarcasm in my voice. She smiles.

"I do actually, I just don't think the pink suits you. It's too light." She leaves the room at a brisk pace, shoulders pulled forward, and head down. I roll my eyes and follow her out. She pulls the outer doors open and steps aside for me to pass, but I stop. On the ground, just outside the room is a delicate magnolia blossom. I pick it up and step out into the hall. Kyra takes it from me. I let Kyra settle it into my hair. Its placement isn't obvious, but I am sure Maven will notice it. When Kyra turns on her heel and walks away, I hear a throat clear behind me. I spin around to face Maven. He looks perfect as usual. My eyes fall on the matching magnolia pinned to his lapel.

"Your Majesty." I dip into a slight curtsey. I usually do this with a mocking tone, but tonight I do it with all formality. I don't even make eye contact with him.

"Get up. You know I hate that." His voice is subdued, almost melancholy. It cuts into me; like the sting of a razor cut. I squeeze my eyes shut and let it pass, but it doesn't come easily, the memory is too raw.

"Yes, Majesty." I still refuse to meet his eye.

"That's is not one of the dresses from your closet. I would never put you in pink." He eyes the dress suspiciously.

"It was a gift from her Majesty, Queen Iris. It accompanied her request that I attend as her dinner guest this evening." I fold my hands in front of me and stare at the floor. I know that I am fueling his anger, but he is not deserving of my attention after what he did.

"I see." He shifts still uncomfortable. "Would you allow me to escort you downstairs?"

"Yes, Majesty, if that is you desire." He hesitates before offering me his arm, I don't take it immediately and when I do, I only lay my hand on it. I keep my distance. We walk down the main staircase in silence. A silence that bears an uneasy unpleasant weight. When we reach the bottom, he reaches out and touches the magnolia blossom. Both the flower and the caress are small acts of contrition. Pieces of an apology that he is struggling to put together. It will take so much more to coax forgiveness out of me though, and he knows it. I finally look into his eyes and what I find there makes my stomach flutter. The blue is neither ice nor fire, but instead the storm -tossed surface of an impossibly deep sea. They are rimmed in bluish-gray as though he has been rubbing them. I snatch my hand away too quickly, they are too much. Clarisse steps forward.

"Pardon the intrusion, Your Majesty, but the Queen is asking for you." He breaks his gaze with a sigh and takes his leave. I rearrange my face into a smile and allow Sentinel Tyros to guide me into the hall and pull my chair out for me before taking her place along the wall with the other Sentinels. It is not my usual place on Maven's left. Tonight the King's table is set for eight and I have been sat across from him. I am sure it is for Iris comfort, after all, I can't touch him from here. I assume she knows what transpired after she left, but have to wonder if she knows how deep the rift between the King and me is right now.

I watch them as they make their grand entrance, standing with everyone else, bowing my head as they pass. I can't describe what I feel as I watch the spectacle. The emotions flash through me fast and hot—pity, rage, remorse, jealousy. Each one burning in the pit of my stomach. I am preoccupied with pushing my feelings away to notice that they have taken their seats. I am almost left standing alone in the crowd.

"That dress is lovely on you Miss Barrow. Don't you agree, my love?" Queen Iris is dressed in a dark shade of scarlet. It is a sartorial choice that tips her hand to me. A show of dominance to me, the King, and the court. This is not going to be a dull evening.

"The dress is quite lovely," Iris adopts a smug look. "I, however, prefer Miss Barrow in bolder colors; black, red and purple look best with her coloring." Iris flushes as the King rises to meet her challenge.

"What about you, Miss Barrow. Do you like the dress?" My eyes flit back and forth between the warring Monarchs.

"It is a beautiful dress, but it is not something I would have chosen for myself." I keep my voice low. I want to appear timid. I don't yet know how Iris plays her games, but I am quickly learning.

"And what would you have chosen for yourself?" Maven is pressing me to prove myself to his Queen and his court. I know what he wants me to say. He wants me to agree with him. Instead, I settle on on defiance and the truth. I will be a wild card in this game.

"Pants." There are suppressed chuckles from nearby nobles, and the corners of Mare's mouth turn up for just a moment.

"Well, there is _something_ to be said for personal tastes I suppose." She forces a mirthless laugh, the fawning nobles eager to win royal praise all follow suit howling like hyperactive lapdogs. The realization that I will have to let go of my grudge against Maven to maintain my dominance over the nobles digs at the still weeping wound. I catch his eye and turn up the corner of my mouth in a well-hidden smirk. In one quick motion, I throw a lifeline over the canyon. I slide my foot out of my shoe and up his leg. A quick but knowing smile passes over his features. One hand disappears beneath the table and catches my ankle as my toes glide over his knee, pulling my foot into his lap. Deft fingers trace swirls and patterns over my skin. The chattering nobles return their focus to me when Iris addresses me again.

"Do you dance Miss Barrow? Is that something they teach in the villages?" I turn my gaze on her. It is a struggle to keep my face straight as maven's touch tickles the silky skin my foot and calf.

"No. They tend to focus on useful life skills." My wriggling toes brush against a budding erection. I repeat the movement several times. "How to survive, how to handle harsh circumstances, how to use your environment to you advantage." I glance over at Maven. The sparkle in his eye is unmistakable. "The instruction I had in Summerton was..." I push my foot deeper into his lap, running my toes along the length of him. He stills me. Giving his head an almost imperceptible shake. "...shall we say less than adequate." They all know the spun story of my seduction of a susceptible Prince. "In short, I am not a good dancer."

"Don't be silly, you are a better dancer than Lord Mirros here." He glances at a middle-aged man from the Lakelands. "I still have all my toes after dancing with you all of last summer." He runs his hand over my calf again.

"I do believe that is more a testament to your skill than mine, Your Majesty." While everyone is looking at me, he mouths the words _Hall, now._ I smile, pulling my foot out of his lap. I turn on my sweetest voice. "Would you excuse me for a moment, Your Majesties?"

"Of course." I glance over my shoulder at him as I exit. If a look could kill, Iris' steel gaze would have ended me then and there.

The door I went through leads to a side hall that is rarely used. Not two full minutes later Maven follows me into the corridor. Before I can even react, his hands are on my waist, and I am pressed against the wall. Eyes of former kings stare down at me from guided frames. They and everyone in that room watched as their King followed a red girl into a secluded hall, presumably for a quick tryst. His lips are soft bur scorching on my neck. He is fevered. I press my hands to his chest and gently push him away.

"Maven, stop. Breathe, you're too hot." To my horror, I sound breathy and excited. My heart beats rapidly in my chest. I want to pull him back to me. And I do l. I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull him in pressing my lips to his, beckoning him forward. It is my turn to act in desperation. The only other two times he has kissed me have been irrational and possessive, this one is much the same, but I am the aggressor. My brain screams for me to stop but my body doesn't listen. I press into him. His fingers gather the fabric of my skirt at my hip pulling it up my thigh.

"I hate this fucking dress." The lust in his eyes makes me hot; it burns me at my core. _I want him to touch me._ "Go upstairs and put on something more to my taste. Something in black lace will do. I'll send up your handmaid to assist." He kisses me again. I catch his lip in my teeth not allowing him to break away from me. He releases my dress and places either hand on my cheeks kissing me softly. "We will finish this later." He tears himself away from me and looks back with longing in his eyes before the door shuts behind him with a snap.

Kyra is already in my room when I arrive.

"There sure is no shortage of drama in your life is there?"

"I wish there was. I'd kill for a quiet life somewhere far away." I allow myself a moment of wishful thinking—starting over somewhere new, no responsibilities except to each other. My heart aches when it dawns on me that it might not matter to me what color eyes I stare into every night, so long as it's away from this place and this miserable life. I scratch at my hands trying to force my mind to recall every single atrocity Maven is responsible for. When my nails break the skin, I return to reality.

"Then do it. Kill him for it."

"I don't just want to kill him, Kyra. I want him to pay for his crimes before I allow him to die." The words no longer feel right on my tongue. They leave an acrid taste behind that makes me sick to my stomach. I pull on a pair of gloves. Ten minutes later I am ready to reenter the dining hall. The dress Kyra put me in is backless with a high slit up one side. My lips are painted a dark shade of red. When I reach the foot of the stairs, I am met by the Captain of the King's personal guards. He holds out a small velvet box to me.

"The King wishes you to wear this." Inside is a gaudy ice blue diamond the color of His eyes. I allow the guard to put the necklace on me. Two stewards draw open the doors, and every eye in the hall turns to watch me walk through the crowd. Maven stands at the other end of the hall. I hold my head high as I stride confidently through the crowd to stand with him. He takes my hand when I reach him and kisses my cheek.

"Much better. Don't you think, my Queen?" Iris does not back down.

"Do you think it wise to parade your pet in such a public manner, my love?" She sounds merely concerned, but her eyes flash in the light. "If you aren't careful, you will put a target on her back." Neither of us misses the implication of her statement. Maven bristles. I step between the King and his Queen.

"I have been a target since I fell into the arena during Queenstrial. That will not change until someone finally manages to kill me, which will by no means be easy, Your Majesty." I keep my voice even, and my eyes level with hers.

"I pray you don't get too comfortable, death always finds those who are most deserving." The Queen turns and strides out of the banquet hall. I stare daggers at her back, willing her to be less graceful, less elegant, less regal. A firm hand rests on the small of my back. His breath is warm on my neck.

"It would be a shame if someone killed her."


	8. Leather & Lace

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello Darlings,**

 **You asked, and I obliged. Personal note, This chapter was difficult for me because my soul needs Mare and Cal to be together.**

 **Standard warnings for language, sexual content, and allusion to self-harm apply.**

 **As always, Tread Carefully, and Happy Reading**

 **Mare's POV**

To my relief, the excitement of the night ends with the doors closing behind Iris. There is not a single silver in attendance that has the spine to call out the King for his actions tonight. They will wait. They will discuss it, form factions, arguing amongst themselves until they reach a tipping point. It will be a slow building repeat of the last time the High Houses splintered. I look forward to it. They never learn.

As the night progresses, I begin to notice that there is one thing that has changed—Maven. The man sitting next to me tonight is not the same as the one who sat next to me at breakfast, and certainly not the same man that I left in a rage earlier this afternoon. By the end of the meal, it has become clear that the nobles are just as surprised to see their King laughing and having fun as I am. He has dropped his airs and pretenses, assuming a role more akin to a peer than a sovereign.

He keeps his hand just under the hem of the slit in my dress, the touch does not seem possessive, but a simple reminder that I am not alone in a room full of people; that I do not face their scrutinizing eyes alone. We will be judged together. I don't refuse his attention and affection; I even deign to return them on occasion. When a third glass of wine is poured for him, I lean forward and move it away, replacing it with a crystal glass of fizzy water. When he turns his glower on me, I lay my head on his shoulder.

"You may look like your father, but you do not have to act like him." He looks piqued but softens after only minor urging from me. "Besides, I would prefer your undivided and sober attention later." His hand moves up my thigh and squeezes. He is inches away from my shame. Fear and pain shoot through me. I draw in a sharp breath.

"If you want me to stop, I will. It's not any fun if you don't want me too." He turns to me, but I place a finger to his lips before he can kiss me.

"Not here, Please. I can't stand the whispering." He looks disappointed, but nods.

"As you wish." When he turns away, he also pulls his hand away, but I catch it before the warmth leaves my skin. I tell myself that it is for the mission, that I need him fully invested in loving me for it to work. The back of my mind tickles with the truth though; I need the small measure of comfort in the gesture. I am slowly but surely falling back into my feelings for him.

I listen quietly, watching the people dance as he and the nobles chat idly about the state of the country and the war. I have never seen Maven so animated, so content. It makes me feel warm inside.

The sun had set some time ago, and I am starting to feel weary of the conversation and the party. In the solitude of being the only red and the only woman at the table, I turn my thought inward, tuning out everything around me. I think about Cal and how every step I take towards the completion of my goal, I step farther away from him. I have made every sacrifice imaginable for my people, and now I surrender my love for their freedom. It doesn't matter if Cal and I both come out of the other side of this alive because there will be nothing left of myself to give him. The thoughts make me sad and the constant struggle to keep the brooding from showing on my face makes me tired. I stifle a yawn and try not to look bored. It takes me too long to realize that everyone at the table is staring at me. I had been asked a question, and it had not even registered that I had been addressed directly. I give myself a little shake.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, I am getting tired from the lack of stimulating conversation." They laugh. I smile broadly. I place a light kiss on Maven's cheek. Brushing my lips against his ear, I whisper to him that I want to go to bed. He bids me goodnight and sends me upstairs, promising that he will be up within the hour. I saunter through the corridors. Slipping out of the banquet hall before the Sentinel on duty saw me, lets me wander freely and take the long way back to my rooms. I am not in there for long though. Stopping only for a moment, I strip off my jewelry and let down my hair. I grab something to change into from the closet before leaving again.

I make quick work of picking the lock and letting myself into the King's rooms. I shimmy out of my dress and put on the red silk chemise from my closet. I look at myself in the full-length mirror. The silk is the same color as the marks on my legs. My cheeks burn at the thought of Maven finding the evidence of my ignominious treatment of my body. I turn away before my burning eyes can shed their tears. I extinguish the lights with a flick of my wrist and stroll out onto the balcony, leaving the doors open to let in the balmy night air. I lean against the railing staring up at the stars thinking about all the things in my life that have come and gone. I am wondering why I fight so hard when a delightful heat washes over me. I didn't even hear him come in.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to be mesmerized by the shape of your body and realize that I need to worship you like one of the old Gods." I turn and face him. He is leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. There is a bemused half-smile painted across his lips. His eyes glitter under the light of the stars.

"And what sacrifice do you offer me in exchange for my love and favor?" He unfolds himself from the shadow of the doorway and closes the distance between us, taking me in his arms giving me a whisper-light kiss.

"Anything you would ask of me, My Goddess." I press myself into him. His thumb gently strokes the apple of my cheek. Our eyes meet, sending sparks flying through us both. He traces the line of my jaw with his index finger coming to rest on my chin, gently drawing my face toward his to kiss me again. I rise onto my toes, eager to feel every sensation he has to offer me.

Whatever leftover apprehension I had evaporates. There is little if anything to hold me back. I need him to touch me. I reach for him, pulling him impossibly close. He places both hands on either side of my face and kisses me again, more passionately. He slides them down my body and over my butt, lifting me. I wrap my legs around his waist. I run my fingers through his curls. He holds me against his chest. I feel his heart racing. I run my tongue over a little spot on his neck just under his ear. He shivers in response. I focus on it with every intention of leaving my mark on him. The first time he gasps from pleasure; I feel it in every place my body touches his; a warm tingling that shifts my arousal into overdrive.

"Mare." A desirous murmur. I continue my efforts. Maven carries me back inside, when he moves to push the doors closed with his foot, I stop just long enough to demand that he leave them open. Within seconds, down pillows and soft sheets surround me. His weight presses down on me I want to touch-explore every part of him. "Are you absolutely certain that you want to do this?" His voice is rough like it's coming from low in his throat. It never occurred to me that my consent would matter to him. I had even brushed off his earlier comment about it not being fun if I didn't want it too. I tuck that away for use later.

"Yes." He leaves his mark on me too; right over the pulse point on my neck. "I still hate you. This changes nothing." The effect is lost in the sharp draw of breath and shiver of delight that runs through me when finds a spot under my jawline that makes me squirm and exploits it.

"I know." I did not expect his answer to send a jolt through me. To make my heart ache. To make me want to love him. I close my eyes so that I don't have to look into his.

I get lost in the feel of his hands on me. They are soft, every touch making the silk of my lingerie feel inadequate. I stop thinking, giving into the lust and physical attraction entirely. There is no past, no future, only this moment, this need to be loved and adored by him. I push away every thought that threatens my euphoria. I push Cal away.

He has barely gotten started, and already I feel hot and dizzy. My breath comes quickly as my excitement builds. I can already feel how hard he is against my exposed skin—the preview makes the wait even more agonizing. I run my hands over his chest as he kisses me. Moments later his tie has been cast aside; thrown off into the darkness. My quick fingers pop one button after another, exposing a toned chest and alabaster skin. I push up against him until he breaks our kiss and sits back on his knees. I rise to meet him, drawing a line of kisses over his chest as I push his shirt off his shoulders. He shrugs it off, and another piece of clothing is abandoned to the night. I wrap myself around him and use my body to push him back, laying him down and taking control away from him. He resists but gives in when I pull away from him. It seems the mere threat of withdrawing my affections make him subject to my desires. I wonder how long it will last.

I work slowly, making my way down his torso leaving a faint trail of love bites that will be gone before first light down his body. When I undo his belt and free it from the last couple of loops, the leather makes a resounding crack. The look in his eye is devilish, and I know what he is thinking. I let the belt fall to the floor and lean over him. After a long passionate kiss. I whisper my answer against his lips.

"Next time." He repeats my words in a husky, panting exhale. At that moment, he wraps his arms around me and rolls us over, taking back his control. He pins my wrists over my head and kisses me with increasing pressure and fervor. My lips will be bruised and pink tomorrow. The next several kisses are more teeth than anything else; both mine and his. He needs me the same way I need him tonight, and his hunger for me reduces me to a writhing thrall—a woman slaved to his affections. I close my eyes and let him have his way, but break his grip on my wrists, freeing my hands. I unclasp his flamemakers one at a time. I hear each hit the floor and roll away.

I find myself surprised that his heat is not a reflection of his burning prurience. It pulses in time with his pounding blood, but it is a mild heat that I revel in. My eyes snap open at a sudden jerk and the sound of ripping fabric. My chest heaves as he stares down at me; drinking in every line, every curve. He starts at my collar bone and draws a line of kisses down between my breasts. He tickles the skin around my nipple with his tongue. I shiver and let a soft, breathy moan escape my lips. His lips close around it, sucking lightly, teasingly-hinting at a slow, controlled burn that he could draw out all night. I moan louder, blowing on the smoldering coals, willing them to ignite. I move my legs sliding my thigh along his still infuriatingly clothed erection. I run my hands over him, sighing his name.

My fingers play with the button of his pants. I pull down the zipper and reach inside. I stroke him as he continues to tease my nipples. I can hear the wavering in my breath. I press my face into his neck can kiss the spot that makes him quiver again.

"Why the hell are you still wearing pants?" I feel the laugh more than hear it. But he obliges. I feel cold without the heat of his body directly on me. While he removes his pants, I take off the shredded remnants of my clothes and reposition myself, so I am laying comfortably on the pillows. He returns to me moments later, taking the time to look me over. He places a knee between my legs and leans his weight on his hands.

"Close your eyes." It is not a request, but still, I willingly submit to him. He kisses me once and is gone. Before I have the chance to wonder what he is doing, his hands are on me again. They run up my thighs. His thumb passes over the fresh cuts, and he sighs. I tense in the same moment. His hands come to rest on my hips, and his lips find the wounds, and he kisses each of them in turn. He says nothing as he works his way through them. He knows why. He knows how. He knows better than to stop now.

When he reaches the unmarred skin, his mood shifts again and he playfully bites at the tender flesh of the opposite thigh. My body shakes with pleasure as he teases me running his tongue everywhere but where I want him to. When he finally sees fit to give me some real pleasure, I can barely contain myself. His tongue glides over my clit with speed and skill that astonishes me. Waves of hot and cold roll through me. I grip the blankets in one hand and his hair in the other. I moan as my head rolls in pillows. My legs shake as the pleasure builds.

"Does that feel good?" He rubs his thumb in circles over and around my clit. All I can do is moan louder. "I could stop if you aren't enjoying yourself..." I manage to glare at him, and he goes down on me again with a vengeance. Sucking and swirling his tongue until I scream his name. "That's better."

I haven't yet come down from my orgasm when he penetrates me for the first time. I cry out as our hips come together. I am suddenly and completely full, and the shock is intense. The world around me becomes a blur, my senses bleed together, and I can't make sense of anything but the ecstasy. My breath comes in ragged pants I have no control. I act, and I react without a single thought. The sparks turn to blue fire as they touch him. The lights dazzle me as much as the feel of him sliding in and out of me. It does not take long for him to bring me to orgasm a second time. I arch my back and drag my fingernails down his back screaming louder with each thrust. Thunder rumbles outside, and a streak of purple splits the sky. I glance out the open doors. The bespeckled night sky is dark with a sudden a storm. No rain falls, but the low rumbling gets closer with every second.

He pulls out and gives himself a moment to catch his breath. I should take advantage of this opportunity, but I am weak and still panting from his intense love. After a few seconds, I can't stand the thought of not touching him any longer. I push through the weakness, and exhaustion and press him back into the pillows. My legs still shake as I straddle his torso. I explore him. Searching out the places that make him tense and gasp beneath me. He knots his fingers in my hair as I play, biding me to take him in my mouth. I resist only enough to make him want it more. Touching everything but what he desires me too. I intend to repay his every favor, starting his making him wait for what he wants. I tease him mercilessly until he growls deep in his throat, a command for me to obey. I finally relent and take him in, giving him everything he demands. The sounds that he makes drive me wild; arousing me further.

"Mare. Oh, fuck, Mare." He is straining to hold back. Neither of us is quite finished with the other yet. I climb the length of his body, drawing a solid line with my mouth from tip to tongue, ending in a kiss that ignites something deep inside me. I don't take the time to explore it. Maven wraps his arms around me and rolls me beneath him again. His kisses are hard and insistent. Like he cannot get enough to be satisfied. He slips his fingers inside me and works until he brings me to the edge of orgasm again, but doesn't let me. He watches me come back down.

"Bastard, Evil fucking son of a bitch." He gives an innocent smile in response.

"Do you want me?" He teases me with his swollen head. I nod, but it is not good enough for him. 'Say it." I stare into his eyes.

"I want you, Maven. You and no one else." He slips back inside me, moving slowly and steadily building in speed and depth. I hate him for holding himself away from me. I miss the hot flush of skin, But I can see how much he is enjoying watching me writhe and moan—it excites him, and I won't deny him that. When I start to moan louder, he covers the sound with his mouth. Drawing my breath into him, keeping me light headed from shallow breathing.

"Come for me again." I do. Clawing, Shaking, Screaming. He pushes through it all, relentlessly; drawing it out for an impossibly long time. The lightning storm outside rages. The flashes of purple are quick and intense. The static in the room is thick. It crackles in quick pops of purple sparks and blue fire. It would be stunning to watch if Nirvana weren't several seconds away from exploding inside me again.

"Slow down" The words are a gasp that barely escapes my throat. Had he not been paying attention to my every reaction, I doubt he would have heard me. The shift to slow deep thrusts is abrupt. I move against him, pushing up to meet him, wrapping my legs around him. The smile that crosses his lips is quick, but I do not miss it. He wraps his arms around me and rolls with me until I am on top. He reaches up and pushes the hair out of my face. He slides his hand behind my neck and pulls me down into a kiss. His hands touch every part of me he can reach as I run my lips and tongue over his chest and abs. He places one hand on my thigh and uses his thumb to heighten my pleasure, creating the friction that I crave. I arch up and throw my head back, shaking my hair out and giving him a full view of my body. He sighs; deeply, slowly. I move faster, grinding against his thumb. As I watch him enjoy himself, I understand why he wanted to watch me too. He pushes himself up into a sitting position. The change in angle causes me to cry out. He wraps both arms around me and presses a hard kiss to my lips. He lets his head roll, eyes closed, small moans escaping his lips as I ride him. He pulls me back down against his chest and changes the pace again. His thrusts pound against me hard and fast. I hear him groan as he presses a kiss into my shoulder and finishes. I try to sit up, but he holds me too tightly.

"Don't move." I look into his eyes; they shine in the fading flashes of purple light. I lay my head on his chest. My pounding heart and erratic breathing return to normal as he holds me. "I never want to let you go." It doesn't take me long to find sleep with him. The steady beat of his heart lulls me into a drowsy calm. My eyelashes flutter.

"Please be here when I wake up." All the tension leaves his body and his arms relax their grip. I move so that I lie next to him. I cuddle myself into him as the last of the storm dies away, and the clock in the sitting room strikes one. Two _hours, no wonder I am exhausted._

"Shhh." He presses a kiss to the top of my head. "I will be, my love." A sigh. "I promise."

* * *

 **Cal's POV**

I need to run. If I stand still, the pressure on my heart will squeeze it out of existence. I have been out here for nearly three hours, burning off errant emotions. _She could have prepared me for this. She should have told me her plans_. I push myself harder. Purple flashes through my head, I knew what she did the moment I saw the video played. It wasn't heat lightning that passed over the Capitol last night.

I pull my shirt off and wipe sweat salt and tears from my face. I cast it aside. I would scream if I weren't already working my lungs too hard. My muscles strain, everything hurts. But I am determined to run until I can't anymore. I am running for my life, and the only thing chasing me is heartache. I tell myself that She has adapted to Royal custom, that who she sleeps with has no bearing on who she loves. That she is playing the role that is required of her and fulfilling the duties of that position. The sentiment is just as hollow in my head as it must have sounded to her when I attempt to rationalize my decision to be King on the balcony in Corvium. Even more, I know that it is not true. She was raised differently. Love, sex, marriage, they are symbiotic for her-pieces of a whole. And for that sentiment, as long as we are separate and unequal, she and all the reds will always be better than we are.

When I reach the main house again, I just collapse unceremoniously to the ground. I am spent, physically and emotionally. I will be feeling this for days. I dig my fingers into the dirt and grass. I am getting nowhere quickly trying to calm myself down. I see purple when I close my eyes against the morning sun. The light tap of heels on wood invades my misery. I don't open my eyes.

"You look like shit." Her voice grates at my last nerve.

"Go. Away. Eve." I punctuate every word, so she knows exactly how much I do not want to see her.

"That is no way to speak to your future wife." The taunt in her words pisses me off.

"Allow me to rephrase then, fuck off, Eve." It is more a growl than a sentence.

"If I got this way every time my girlfriend had sex with my brother, I would kill myself. "I open my eyes just enough to glare at her.

"We aren't together like that." It hurts to admit it out loud.

"So, you ran off with her because you're stupid not because you're in love with her?" My teeth grind together. The tension I am holding will snap if she doesn't shut up. My hands are already twitching, but I know that Evangeline won't stop pushing until she gets whatever it is she wants from me.

At fourteen she was pointed out to me as my future Queen. I was told in no uncertain terms that regardless of whether I even liked her, I was obligated. I had no choice. We had been friends when we were little, but that dissolved as we went our separate ways. After that, I never thought about her., and honestly, up until Queenstrial, I was indifferent to her. She was there and would continue to be there. Her cruelty didn't bother me until it was turned on a small brown-eyed red girl from the stilts. Now, I barely tolerate her.

"Are you upset that it only took him two weeks to bed her or that the light show he coaxed out of her was both devastating and beautiful?" I can't place the tone in her voice. Reading people and emotions was never my talent.

"What do you want Evangeline?" She raises a delicately groomed eyebrow. And crosses her arms.

"Mostly, I want you to hate me—"

"Done."

"—enough to refuse the betrothal." I sit up and turn so that I can study her. _Evangeline Samos doesn't want to rule? Impossible._ Her expression is a carefully crafted mask of indifference.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to be your Queen." It's the second time a woman has said that to me, but this time it doesn't hurt. "I want to be Queen of The Rift. On my own Merritt."

"You could have just asked."

"I don't ask for things; I earn them the hard way." She strolls down the stairs and drops down next to me. She pulls at the grass, ripping it into pieces and tossing it away. "If it means anything to you, I'm sorry." She doesn't look up. It's my turn to look skeptical.

"In the eleven years I have known you, I have only ever heard you apologize three times, and they were all for disappointing your mother." I still can't read her expression when she looks at me.

"Yeah, and each of those apologies was a sign of weakness and therefore an added layer of disappointment."

"Why apologize at all then?" Her voice drops very low as she looks around for any sign of wildlife.

"I don't want to be who they made me." It was no secret that Lord and Lady Samos had ambitions for their daughter. All the families of the high houses did, but none perused the crown more viciously than House Samos. "They plan to kill you." I give a small nod. I assumed as much from Volo and Larentia Samos. "That has always been the plan." I glance at her. "I was bred and groomed to assume power and kill you in cold blood the moment an Heir was born." She won't look at my face. It occurs to me that there is a good chance that Evangeline has never been this open with anyone, perhaps not even Elaine. "The plan has never changed, just shifted back and forth between brothers."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I am a self-serving bitch." I would have agreed with her once, but not today. "If you are going to retake the throne, you need to be ready. The Alliances that are supporting your bid balance on the sharp edge of a sword. Not a single faction has any trust or support for the others."

"You think I don't know that? Why does everyone think I can't see what is in front of me?"

"Because she blinds you. Your judgment is terrible where it concerns Mare Barrow. You're reckless. If you are going to succeed, you need to do it without her."

"I don't want to." I didn't think before I answered. I do not want to do this without her. I need her to keep me level. Maybe I give her too much credit for my capacity for compassion.

"What about what she needs?" I do a double take. "You have no idea of the gravity of what she is doing for you. She walked in there and is sacrificing everything she is to make you King because you made it clear that your kingdom is the most important part of your life." My feelings start to melt away as I listen to Evangeline. I had no idea that there was anything in the place where her heart should be. "That kind of love only exists in epic poems. You will never in your life meet another who is loved like that." My breath comes hard again like someone is pressing on my chest. _Why did I let her go?_ There is silence between us for several minutes.

"I will tell your father I have reconsidered and refuse the betrothal." She looks surprised at how easy it was to convince me.

"When will you do it, I only ask so that I can make myself scarce before you do."

"When Anabel returns. She left for the capital this morning." Her eyes widen in alarm.

"She is putting all of us at risk." I scoff.

"We are more at risk if she ignores the summons." Evangeline's posture becomes more defensive.

"Maven had her interrogated by Delilah Merundas yesterday. I am sure he knows everything." Her voice has a dangerous edge to it.

"If he did, this conversation would not be happening."

* * *

 **Maven's POV**

When I wake, the sun is fully in the sky and shining through the still open doors. I don't open my eyes right way. I am content to lay in bed next to this woman who both thrills and infuriates me. When I reach for her, she is gone. My eyes snap open. Had I imagined all of it? I sit up in bed. Searching wildly for her. There are clothes strewn everywhere, mine and hers. I had not imagined it. I had taken her last night, and she is mine now, mine alone. It doesn't take me long to find her. She sits behind my desk reading very intently. The sunlight dances in her hair as her eyes skim the page. When she looks up, there is electricity and fury in her eyes. I take a deep breath— _here it comes._

"What the Hell is this?" I was expecting threatening; instead, she greets me with shrill. The pitch makes me tense.

"A contract." I want to downplay the importance of what she holds in her shaking hands until I have had a chance to read it myself.

"And you thought I would willingly sign it? Become your property?" She lets it fall back onto the desk. And pushes herself away from it as though it might bite her if she is too close to it.

"No. I haven't had the time—" I let her cut me off. Perhaps if I let her yell, until she is finished, she will listen, let me explain.

"But that is what you want isn't it? It's what you have always wanted. To possess me, to make it so the only autonomy I have is what you graciously grant to me." Her tirade is growing in pitch and volume, I can't let this go on much longer.

"Mare, calm down." It quickly becomes apparent that I chose the wrong thing to say.

"No, I won't calm down. You haven't changed at all." Tears are shining in her eyes when she stands. She is fast, but I am out of bed and across the room before she reaches the doors. I catch her in my arms and stop her. She fights me, but I hold tight until she stops struggling. She falls against me crying now. "Why do you always do this? You give me a glimpse of who you were, who you should be, then you take it away, replace him with this cold and unfeeling monster." My glass heart shatters in her punishing fingers.

"I had the contract pulled out yesterday evening. It is the standard contract for a sworn consort of a monarch, I have not looked it over or amended it yet." There is a cooing quality to my voice that I did not know I possessed. "It would officially make you my mistress so that Iris can't touch you. It's a formality that gives me a legal precedent to protect you." I nuzzle my face into her soft hair. "You don't have to sign it this morning, but you will sign it." She meets my eye with a fiery glare that ignites my passion for her. I marvel at the grace of her movements as she rips herself from my grasp.

"No, I won't. I refuse to put myself in a secondary cage. I am already trapped here, and I will not be bound to you." I cross the room in a few long strides and rip the contract in half, letting the pieces fall to the ground.

"Fine, but without this, I have no legal grounds to protect you. Queen Iris is within her rights to have you executed. And after last night I am sure the entire kingdom knows exactly how good I made you feel. They saw it, and the palace certainly heard it." The harsh edge in my voice is unintentional, and all it does is earn me her scorn. A delicious bright red blush spreads over her face and neck, disappearing beneath the open collar of my shirt from last night. I want desperately to know what she is feeling. _Is she ashamed, embarrassed, angry, does she regret it?_ Insecurity floods through me.

The only sound between us for more than a minute is her quick and angry breathing. I can't be sure if she Is trying to calm herself down, or just trying not to unleash her rage. When she starts to run her nails over her arms, I open my arms to her. She only hesitates a moment before letting me embrace her.

"I will change anything you ask me too, just let me protect you. Please?" The pleading note in my voice is pathetic in my ears. I can only imagine what it sounds like to her. It takes a lot of strength to keep my temper in check as I scold myself.

"I'll think about it." I tilt her face toward mine and kiss her. I pour everything that I am feeling into her. My lips cling to her in fear for her safety, my anger presses into her lips with fervor, my lust parts her lips and guides over her tongue, and finally my love for her wraps around her and lifts her up onto the desk. Within minutes, she disentangles one of her hands from my hair and wraps it around the hard shaft of my dick. After only a few long slow strokes, her hand is slick with precum.

"Are you planning on dangling what I want in front of me all day, or will you allow me to satisfy at least one of my desires this morning?" A wicked smile dawns across her face. She keeps her eyes locked on mine as she unbuttons her shirt with a slowness that is pure agony. Taking her time on every button. When she reaches the final one, I feel as though I might explode. She lays back exposing the bare skin of her chest to me. Her nipples are hard and the most perfect shade of pink I have ever seen. I rest my hands on her hips and slide into her. She gasps. I do it again, taking great care to make my movements long and slow. Her chest rises and falls in time with my thrusts. The air grows warm and thick around us, and a pink flush rises to the surface of her skin. Her muscles contract around me, and the tightness almost too much. There is nothing in my life that compares to watching her pleasure reach its peak. She doesn't scream this morning. Instead, she bites her lip to keep quiet. Her back arches in a smooth line and her thighs clench and quiver around my waist. I entwine my fingers in hers and pin one hand against the desk, the other arm wraps underneath her and pulls her closer to as I spill into her. I profess my love for her in a breathless prayer.


	9. The Nature of Humanity

**Hello Darlings,**

 **Sorry for the delay, I don't mean to keep you waiting.**

 **There are no hard trigger warnings for this chapter.**

 **Enjoy. : )**

 **Tread Carefully and Happy Reading.**

 **Mare's POV**

I want to tear myself apart.

I can't stand the feel of my skin. It itches and crawls. I would wriggle out of it if I could. No matter how I scrub, I cannot make the feeling stop. I cry and fume in the shower until I make myself sick; body wracked with sobs, heaving bile. The tile is hard when I fall to my hands and knees.

This must be what hatred feels like. What it feels like to be disgusted by how you feel, by your actions, by your choices. What it feels like to be at war with yourself-mind, body, heart, and soul all crying out, fighting against each other because every move you make is both right and wrong. I shudder at the sour taste on my tongue. The water has long since run cold, but still, I sit with my arms wrapped around my knees, unable to make myself move. I shiver under the icy water, I want to shatter my reflection in the door. My blue lips quiver as fresh tears burn my raw red eyes.

I am too much of a coward to take stock of my emotions. I am terrified of what I will find. I squeeze my eyes closed hoping for blackness and numbness to take me over, but I have no such luck. I see Cal when I close my eyes. I see the hurt, the disappointment, the despair that I know I have caused him. I miss him. My heart aches for his love. My soul screams my need to be with him. My body longs for his touch. But, my head reminds me that it will never be. The tears fall freely once more. I dissolve into sobbing lamentations. Even if he changed his mind; if he no longer wanted to be King, how could he forgive me for this, for again allowing myself to have feelings for Maven? _How can I forgive myself for it?_ My stomach turns violently again. I watch as the acid spins down the drain. I feel empty, there is nothing left for me to wretch should I gag again.

I am weak and shaking when I finally force myself to stand. I wrap myself in the fuzzy robe and open the door. Clarisse looks at me with wide eyes. I can only imagine what I look like to her. Without hesitation, she crosses the room and puts an arm around my waist to support me.

"Are you alright, my Lady? Should I summon a healer?" I think I hear genuine concern in her voice.

"Thank you, Clarisse. But no. I don't need a healer." I climb into the bed "And please, I am not a lady, call me Mare." She steps back and casts her gaze back toward the floor.

"Is there anything I can do for you before I return to my post?" I study her for a moment. Clarisse has never been unkind to me, but her demeanor has changed since last night. I assume it has more than a little bit to do with my spending the night with her King.

"Could you call for my Handmaid? The one that dressed me yesterday?" I try not to sound too insistent. If Maven is using her to spy on me, I don't want to give her the impression that I like Kyra or that I have even learned her name.

"Certainly. I assume you will not be attending lunch in this condition, shall I have her bring you something to eat as well?" I nod. I probably won't be able to keep anything down.

"Thank you, Clarisse." She leaves the room at her usual brisk pace. When the door closes behind her, I get up and put on comfortable clothes I am sitting in the middle of the bed with a pillow held tight to my churning stomach when Kyra knocks and enters. She sets a tray down in front of me. And takes in the sight of me; slouched with stringy, dripping hair and a pale complexion.

"You look awful." Without a second thought, she jots something down on a slip of paper and leaves the room. I raise an eyebrow at her when she returns. She meets my eye confidently. "You just sent the King your regrets and an apology for missing lunch because you are not feeling well." She pauses before getting to work. I don't know why she hesitated, her expression is unreadable. "You should eat, and the tea is to settle your stomach, chef's recommendation. Sentinel Tyros mentioned you weren't feeling well. It looks like she was right." also on the tray are two little white pills. I glance back up at her. "It's your body, so it is your choice." I take them.

"Thanks." She gets up on the bed behind me and brushes my matted hair.

"You should take those with food, or they will make you sick." I pick at the food while she works. I am not feeling up to eating or conversing. Mostly, I just don't want to be alone. I do sip at the tea though. In hopes that it will calm my nerves with my stomach. Kyra spends nearly an hour brushing and braiding my hair. She works much more slowly than usual; undoing her work and starting over when she finishes. I think she knows why she is here. I wish beyond measure that it was my sister sitting with me, but Kyra is doing fine in this pinch. "It's harder than you thought it would be, isn't it?" I nod. "Do you love him?" I consider my answer for a long time.

"Yes and no." She doesn't make a sound. "Right now, I despise him. He is deplorable. A monster. An ill-tempered, selfish, and psychotic boy-king who needs to be brought to justice." The ire starts to bubble as I say it. "But, when we are alone together, He is everything I wanted him to be. The man I thought he was before his cruel betrayal." The bubbles fizzle out.

"You're in love with the idea of a man who only exists in your mind." The tone of her voice makes me feel uneasy, and I cannot explain why. There is nothing menacing behind it, but I want to defend him, defend myself against her non-accusatory accusations. Instead, I bite my tongue and sigh.

"I am repulsed by my feelings for him, but thrilled by the touch of his hand." I hug the pillow closer. I want to bury my face in it and scream until I can't anymore.

"Have you found it yet, what you need to make all of this worth it?" Her voice is more soothing now-calm, slow, and quiet.

"I think so. I need time to study it though, be sure it has everything. I am only going to get one chance to do this, it has to be perfect." I am not sure where the trepidation in my voice is coming from, but I hope Kyra doesn't hear it. I doubt myself enough, I might falter is she doubts me too.

"Have you thought about using Dashiell to get it for you? "Dashiell is the newblood that smuggled me into the palace during the masquerade. I had already thought of asking him, but I don't want to put him in unnecessary danger.

"I don't know. There are a lot of variables. I don't know which book it is in, and he keeps them locked up. How are Dash's lock picking skills?"

"Not as good as yours, but he could probably manage if he had to."

"If one of those books goes missing, he will tear this place apart until he finds it. No one will be safe, least of all anyone he suspects of disloyalty." Kyra stays quiet while I try to reason out a plan. We lapse into silence again after a couple of minutes. A knock at the door makes me jump. Kyra tosses the finished braid over my shoulder and gets up to open the door. I study the smooth and glossy plait, so I don't have to look up.

"His Majesty is here to see you, my lady." I force myself to nod. Kyra catches my eye behind Clarisse. I plead with her silently to stay, to not leave me alone with him. "Very well." When the door closes, Kyra busiest herself with cleaning and tidying up. When He enters, I keep my eyes focused on tracing the woven patterns in my hair, only glancing at him from the corner of my eye. He keeps his distance, hands shoved in his pockets. I chew in the inside of my lip.

"How are you feeling?" His voice is hushed, almost a whisper. I think he is afraid to startle me. My mind flashes back to last night, and how he did not relax until I assured him that I was not going to leave before he woke. I find my thread of steel and force myself to look at him. His expression is neutral, but there is sorrow in his eyes. The twinge in my chest makes me want to comfort him, but the charring in my stomach reminds me that I shouldn't want to. I can't make myself open my mouth. He looks at me for a long time, taking in everything about me. There is something troubling him, it crosses his face when he passes over how I cling to the pillow. The look makes me fidget. He notices. "You're upset with me."

"No." It's not a lie, I am upset with myself for letting him get to me. I know how he works and still, I let him in. "I'm not. I just feel sick."

"You're lying. I can see how distraught you are. Tell me what you need." I stare past him at Kyra. Her eyes are wide. I wonder what she is thinking. He steps closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. It takes all my strength not to recoil. I bite down on my lip until I taste blood because I want him to touch me. "Anything you need is yours."

"I don't need anything" I sound quiet and far away. I clear my throat and try again. "I don't know what I need." That is a lie. What I need to finish this. I need Cal. I need a release.

"Is this about last night? Do you..." There is a waver in his voice. He shakes off his insecurity. These quick flashes of vulnerability are becoming more and more frequent. "Do you regret it?"

"No." The exhale sounds relieved. I twist my fingers in the pillowcase. He reaches out to still my hands but thinks better of it. He pulls back.

"You're holding back. What don't you want to tell me?" I hesitate. I have no idea what I am going to say until I hear myself say it.

"It was too much too fast." There is a puzzled look in his eyes. He doesn't seem hurt, just confused. I let myself speak without thinking it through. "I'm sleeping with a stranger and obviously not handling it well." His expression is unreadable. I have no idea what he is thinking. When he doesn't respond, I press on. "Before, when we were forced together by our circumstances, I thought I was getting to know you, but I have no idea how much of that was an act; which affections were yours and which were your mother's. When I surrendered myself to you to save my family, you were" I pause and look down at my hands. "cruel. You had moments of mercy, but I was sick and terrified and did everything to make it as unbearable as possible. You almost broke me." I look everywhere but at him. I focus on Kyra just beyond him, her thoughts on the matter are clearly written on her face. "In the last two weeks, I have been subject to both your rage and your love, and I have no idea who I will get when you look at me. It wouldn't be so bad if I knew anything other than that about you, but I don't. There is nothing for me to hold onto when you throw me around." His hand is unsteady when it meets my chin, drawing my face up to look him in the eyes. Again, I find a turbulent sea, impossibly deep and fraught with unexpressed emotion. The waves that wash through them invite me in. I almost fall into them. A clatter behind Maven pulls me back from the edge or the precipice. Annoyance flashes across his cheeks and lights his eyes. Fear flashes through me for Kyra. I act before he can. I reach out and touch the place on his face where I had burned him. It keeps him still, keeps him looking at me so he cannot turn his wrath on her.

"You're dismissed." He sounds even tempered. His eyes never leave mine. I watch her leave out of the corner of my eye. As she does, I catch a glimpse of Dashiell slipping in through the door before it closes and concealing himself again. _We are not alone. "_ I'll deal with her later. Mare, I—" I cut him off, snatching my hand away.

"What is there to deal with? It was an accident. No harm was done." I hope that I can convince him that my concern is for all of the red staff, not just this one Handmaid.

"She broke protocol and did not leave the room when I entered. She was eavesdropping." I scowl. The archaic rules are a sore spot for me. I got her into trouble, I have to help her.

"I asked her to stay until she was finished. You would punish her for following my direction when you did not dismiss her directly?" I bite my lip and break his gaze.

"She has to be taught—" My eyes snap back to his face, my mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

"She has to be taught what? That her human mistakes will not be tolerated? That her life means less because of the color of her blood? That her King is sadistic and unsympathetic?" I can hear my voice rising but do nothing to control it. "She already knows those things. We all do." I watch the ire rise—quick breathing and trembling fists. I watch him struggle to control it.

"What would you have me do?" The question surprises me. He really is trying to be a different person. I let go of the breath I didn't realize I was holding and with it, my tight grip on the pillow. I set it aside. When I open my mouth again, I pretend that I am talking to Cal. My tone is soft and tinged with affection.

"I would have you do nothing; be still, lenient." I open my arms to him, and he eagerly takes the invitation, closing his arms around my middle and pushing us back against the pillows. His breathing is still uneven as he lays his head on my shoulder. I run my fingers through his soft dark curls. After several minutes, he resigns himself to my advice and agrees to leave Kyra be. I press a kiss into his hair as a reward. I inhale missing the scent of burning wood that always accompanied his brother. I sigh and shove my longing away.

"You are a bad influence." His tone is light, teasing even. "You'll make me into a soft King, no one respects a soft King." The teasing dissolves into bitterness.

"No, I won't. I will make you a benevolent King. Beloved instead of feared." I keep my tone light and playful. I'm not ignoring the cynicism, just trying to keep the darkness at bay.

"A weak King." He says it with a rueful sigh. The thin tether of my patience is starting to fray.

"Huh, that was odd. You opened your mouth, but I swear I just heard your mother." I give the statement a moment to settle before I continue. "Command and compassion are not mutually exclusive. You could be both authoritative and empathetic. The people would come to love you for it."

"Would you?" The hint of hope and misery I hear makes my heart contract in my chest. C _ould I love him Again? Could I forgive him for the atrocities? For the Abuse?_

"Would I what?" I force myself to play dumb; like I don't know what he is really asking me. I don't want to admit to either of us that the answer is yes. I could have feelings for him, I could even love him, and forgiveness is not a prerequisite.

"Love me." There it is again, wistful hope that I will say yes. I give myself a few extra seconds before I start.

"Maven, I—" He Jerks away from me, sitting upright and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Don't answer that." He pushes both hands through his hair. "I couldn't handle it if you said no, so I don't want to know." He stands but doesn't move. I follow his line of sight out the window to where Iris walks through the magnolia grove with her entourage

"Have you spoken to her since last night?" My voice is low, and I have dropped all pretense.

"No." He doesn't look at me. "But she won't lay a hand on you." The edge in his voice makes goosebumps rise on my arms. I run my hands over them.

"She won't have to. There are plenty of Silver Lords and Ladies, who would jump at the chance to put me in my grave." The room is suddenly cold, and it has nothing to do with the Burner standing in front of me. He looks over his shoulder at me.

"You think I wouldn't protect you from harm? That I would allow someone to threaten you without dire consequences?" _Were we at the same table last night? Did he not hear Iris' blatant threat?_

"I think that in the event of a coup, you won't have a choice in the matter." I can only assume that we are both remembering the night he was almost assassinated. I shudder at the quick vision of sliver blood spurting from the wound on his neck. The sight was awful. But it was Jon that saved my life. He did have the advantage of foresight, but he could have let me take a bullet that night There is silence between us. A stagnant silence that needs to be broken, but I don't know what to say.

"With only two Lakeland Lords here and no solid allies among the Nortian nobility, Iris is ineffectual. You needn't worry about her." I let out a short, sharp laugh. He has no idea what Iris is capable of. I observed her all I could in the time between their betrothal and their wedding day. She is quiet, methodical, and strikes her blows hard and fast. I should and do fear her as much as I do him.

"Have you met your wife?" He turns to face me completely and raises an eyebrow at me. "Do you know what motivates her? Why she is still here and playing by your rules even though her father was killed in the assault on Corvium? I'll let you in on a secret, it is not because of the farcical civil union between the two of you. I bet that contract between you and the late Lakeland King means little to the new regime." A smirk is spreading across his face. I have to push down my revulsion and my attraction to it. I want to kiss him, and that feeling is detestable. "Look out that window again and tell me that you don't think she as chosen some powerful friends." The smirk evolves into a smile.

"Anabel is going to love you as much as I do." It is a struggle to mask my shock. Why would Anabel be in the capital? She rarely visits since Elara and her subsequent influence leached into the monarchy.

"Anabel?" _Shit, I said that out loud._ "Anabel Lerolan. Your grandmother is coming to visit?" I hope my voice is even and indifferent.

"Yes, I think the former Queen will appreciate the spark of the rising Queen." I disregard Maven's comment about my being his Queen. Usually, I would push back, but something isn't right. My vision is a little clouded around the edges. I feel hot. My head feels a little fuzzy. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head a little bit. My heart rate is too low. "Mare? Are you alright?" The sudden concern in voice alarms me, something must really be wrong.

###

 **Maven's POV**

I watch her slump back into the pillows as if it were happening in slow motion. Her face is drawn and pale. When I reach for her, her skin is cold and clammy. Her breathing is labored. Her pulse is weak and slow. She feels much the same way as she did when I pulled her from the silent stone cell.

My own heart races. My breath comes in quick pants. My chest is tight; I am panicking. I have not felt this kind of fear for another person since the night Thomas died. It is a revelation. This must be what she feels for her family, for the Newbloods she protects. I yell for the Sentinel on Duty, both my guard and hers rush through the doors barreling over one another to face whatever threatens me.

"Get me a healer immediately." They both bolt from the room. "If she dies, I will personally kill both of you." I yell after them. I watch her closely as I wait. Her breaths are shallow. I feel each one as if it were my own. They hurt. My mind spins with possible explanations. I assumed her condition was a side effect of her depression and distress. _Had I made it worse by delaying her healing? Will I be responsible for her death?_

It does not take long for Larissa Skonos to arrive. Of all the healers on duty, I and relieved it was her that answered my call. She climbs up onto the bed and places a hand directly over Mare's heart.

"What happened?" There is no sense of formality in her command. She does not use my title, she is singularly focused on saving the young woman before her. Should Mare live, Larissa will be rewarded.

"I don't know. We were talking, and she was agitated. In only a few seconds, all of the color drained from her face, she closed her eyes, shook her head and fainted. There was nothing I could do." That last part was more to comfort me than anything else. "What is taking so long?"

"I am healing the symptoms as I find them. If I don't locate the source of the illness, she will continue to deteriorate. Did she mention anything specific before she fainted?"

"No, but she seemed a little disoriented right before..." I shut my eyes trying to recall every detail of her in the moments before she fell. I can't concentrate enough though. I yell in frustration at no one in particular. "Bring me her handmaid." The girl that enters looks the same as all the others in the palace, head down, shoulders pulled forward. They look meek and helpless. "You will answer any questions Lady Skonos has as if you were answering me directly. Understood?" She nods. "Look at me." Her head snaps up and her shoulders square. "Understood?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Her voice is loud and clear. She is brave.

"Describe Miss Barrow's morning to me." Larissa never looks up. Her hands move as though she is frantically searching for something she cannot find. "And someone get me another healer. Actually, get me two."

"When Sentinel Tyros summoned me around 11 am, found Miss Barrow In bed. Her guard had mentioned that she had not been feeling well and had not attended breakfast, so I brought up a tray of food with me. She was clearly upset about something. Her face was pale, she looked exhausted and as though she had been crying. Her lips were blue, but that was from a cold running shower. She was shaky as I brushed and braided her hair. She only picked at the food. She did not eat much at all. She did, however, drink all of the tea." I glare at the red woman as she speaks. She has too much confidence for a handmaid. I direct my frustrations at her. Two more healers enter the room.

"Take over symptom chasing. I think the source is in her blood." Lady Skonos steps away from the tangle of hands and addresses the red girl directly again. "What did you put in her tea?" I feel fire flare in my hands. _She poisoned her. That little rat poisoned the woman I love._

"I don't know what was in the tea. I didn't make it. One of the chefs recommended it for settling an upset stomach." The healer returns to the patient. I round on the red girl.

"Who was it?" It is an ugly guttural sound that escapes me. This girl should be terrified, instead, she is calm, collected, even defiant. She meets my fiery stare.

"I never learned his name, but he is the one who accompanied Queen Iris from the Lakelands, your majesty." _Iris. Mare even tried to warn me that Iris would make a move, her testament fell on deaf ears. That will not happen again._ I turn to the gathering group of sentinels in the sitting room.

"Find him and detain him. Captain Nomus, you will find my lovely wife in the magnolia courtyard; escort her and her courtiers back to their respective chambers and make sure they do not leave." The captain gives a curt nod and leaves the room. "You," I point to a sentinel whose name I don't know. I grab the girl by the arm and shove her toward the guard. "Put her in a cell for now. I'll decide her fate later." I turn my back on them and cross the room to the window. I watch with bitter glee as Iris is separated from her Lakeland guards and escorted back into the palace.

"I need to move her." Lady Skonos pulls me out of my own head. "I am not equipped to handle this kind of poisoning. I can't heal this and what I have on hand will do nothing for her."

"Do whatever you deem necessary." I let her take command of the remaining guards.

"I need a transport and someone to carry her." I turn away from the window.

"No one touch her." Everyone freezes, even the healers pull their hands away. I lift her off the bed." I'm going with you."

"Let's go then." She strides out of the room I follow her cradling Mare, it's difficult at such a brisk pace, but I won't risk hurting her any more than I already have. A full complement of sentinels close ranks around us. When I get into the transport, I hold her tight against me, Lady Skonos joins us a few seconds later.

"If she wakes before we reach the hospital, she will be in a considerable amount of pain, to keep that from happening, I am going to give her a sedative." I nod. I can't tear my eyes away from her face. It is smooth and serene, it almost looks like she is smiling.

"What do you need to treat her that you did not have in the palace?" I am surprised at how calm I sound.

"I need to filter her blood, it needs to be cleaned of the toxin. I can repair the damaged tissue, but I cannot isolate the toxins and clear them from her system." She keeps one hand on Mare as we ride. It is silent for a few minutes. "Her tea cup was still in the room. I am almost positive she was poisoned with Foxglove. It grows in the spiral gardens. There is an anti-toxin for it, but if I am wrong, it will kill her. Filtering is the safest option." I don't look at her. Larissa drops her voice and adopts a quiet, soothing tone. "I am sure she will be alright, Your Majesty. It will be a long process, but she is remarkable and strong." I finally manage to look at the young healer as we pull up to the hospital. She gives me a weak smile.

"Thank you." Surprise crosses her face before she looks down and away. A curtain of blonde hair hides her features.

I have never been in a civilian hospital before. Makeshift military hospital—yes, but never a white and sterile civilian hospital. Healers can handle most every ailment that might befall a royal. Of course, there are diseases and cancers that cannot be cured. This building makes me uncomfortable. I find it difficult to put Mare down when the time comes. I have this irrational fear that if she leaves my sight, I will never see her again. I set her down and move the hair away from her face. When they wheel her away, I want to follow. I know that they need room to work, but that does little to convince me to stay out of the way. I remind myself that It is was best for her and I cannot put my comfort before her safety. I will wait.

###

 **Mare's POV**

 _When I open my eyes, I am no longer in the palace, it is no longer midday, and I feel just fine. I am sitting on a dock, overlooking a lake. The stars are reflected in the placid waters. I can't tell where the lake stops and the sky begins. My bare feet barely skim the top of the water as I kick them. The fresh mountain air fills me. I am calm, happy even. There are no wounds to be seen on my exposed skin. It is a mild summer night, and after the heat of the day, I am not wearing much of anything._

 _There are footsteps on the gravel path. I don't turn around. There is only one person it could be, but I wasn't expecting him until tomorrow morning. I count his footfalls as the wood creaks under him. Fifteen to the end of the dock. He sits down behind me, pressing his chest against my back and wrapping his arms around me. A pleasant heat and the scent of burning pine envelop me. I inhale deeply. I could live on the smell alone. I lean back into him and tilt my head to one side so he can lay his cheek on my shoulder._

" _Rough day?" I nod. He moves his fingers, so they brush against my swollen stomach. "Can I help?" I put my hand over his to keep them still._

" _This is enough." I finally look at him. But the eyes that meet mine are not the color of wildflower honey, they are blue—clear and cold as the Winter sky. I give him a warm smile and a tender kiss. When I pull back, I am greeted by liquid amber. My elation doubles. I kiss him again; this time with fervor and intent to memorize every detail of his mouth. He responds just as I hoped he would, with a gentle fierceness that I adore._

" _I was only gone Three days, I didn't think you would miss me this much." He gives me a gentle squeeze, his hands strangely cold where they touch my exposed skin._

" _I hate being separated from you." I don't mean to whine, but tonight, it suits me._

 _"I know. I'm sorry, but I was needed in the Capital. It is my responsibility to oversee the transition. I can't just abandon the people, you know me better than that." He sounds tired, we have had this argument a hundred times before, but tonight I have the advantage._

" _What about your responsibility to your family?" Hurt flashes in his eyes. His hand drops to my stomach again, which has been growing as I sit on the moonlit dock. I know that I am dreaming, everything is too still, there are no crickets chirping, or fireflies glowing. I push away my own thoughts and the vision play itself out._

" _The two of you are everything to me. I would change the course of a river if it meant coming home to you and our son." I study the man before me. He isn't my Cal. He is older, his face no longer boyish. It is smooth angles, tired eyes, and a shadow of dark stubble. His hair is neatly trimmed but kept longer, the way I prefer it. I run my finger through it, letting the dark locks slide through my fingers. When I drop my hand, he catches it and presses a kiss into my palm._

" _I know, it's just difficult. I keep telling myself it's for the best, but you spend more time in Archeon than you do at home." I can hear the threat of tears in my voice, and the look on Cal's face tells me he can too. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be upset, it's these damn—"_

" _You don't have to explain. I will try to be home more. I do have to go back in a few days, We are at a pivotal point, they need leadership." I wince at a sudden shock to my kidney. This boy will be a fighter, like his father. "Come back with me this time. See what I have been doing, give the Senate your input. Tell me everything that I am doing wrong." The last part pulls a small smile out of me._

" _Cal." There is a hint of exasperation in my voice. This too is a discussion we have had before._

" _You would have made a great Senator." I push myself away from him, but he pulls me back. I don't struggle. I have waited for his touch for days. I fall back into him and let the silence settle around us._

" _I don't want to be a Senator. I want to be away from people and crowds and politics. I am done being a revolutionary. I'm done fighting. I want a quiet life away from the chaos. I just want to be a wife." Cal sits up a little straighter. There is a gleam in his eye that I have not seen in very long time. It makes my heart flutter._

" _Say it again." It's only a whisper, but there is joy in it._

" _No." I feign annoyance. I know he has been waiting patiently for me to heal; for me to feel like I could be bound to someone without being caged. He has been so understanding. Even in his stubbornness, marriage and children were the two issues that he never pushed, they were too delicate to touch, too precious to him to risk._

" _Please?" He puts on the same mask of innocence he used to wear when he was thinking about something he should not have been. It brings a smile to my face. In this moment, I feel myself falling—my love for him feels new again._

" _Cal." There is only a hint of playful admonishment in my tone, but he drops his mask and his voice._

" _Please, Mare?" There is a serious note in his tone now. There is a reason he wants me to say it one more time. I give and an exaggerated sigh._

" _Fine, I want to be a wife." As soon as the words are out of the way, his lips meet mine. I couldn't have imagined a more wonderful moment. "I love you." I would happily stay in my dream-state for the rest of my life. This is everything I could want, but don't dare ask for. I love Cal too much to ask him to give up his birthright for me and my ideals._

 _I feel a jolt, and I scream just before I open my eyes._


	10. A Delicate State

**Author's Note**

 **Hello My Darlings,**

 **I apologize for the wait. I know that you were in agony waiting for me to reveal Mare's fate. Your wait is at an end.**

 **There are no hard triggers for the section. However, the standard warning for self-harm and depression apply.**

 **Tread Carefully and Happy reading!**

 **Mare's POV**

I vacillate on the edge of consciousness for hours; being swept in and out like the tide on a turbulent sea. Waking up for the first time was like being ripped from relative comfort and safety and shoved violently back into a harsh reality. Bright lights, burning muscles, stabbing pains throughout my abdomen, there is a clicking that sends panic through my already tired and sore body; It is agony. This pain is different than the pain of the sunder though; it doesn't shock or turn me against myself, it feels like a slow death, the kind that can take years. I screamed. I thrashed. I pulled the tubes and wires from my body. I fought until they pushed the needle into my arm and I slipped away again. Now, every time I come to, the pain is a little less. I feel cold all over, but I make no move to alleviate my suffering. I don't move at all. After the first time I woke, I don't even bother to open my eyes again. Instead, I lie very still listening to the clicks and beeps of the machines. I know that I will pass out again soon, so I don't even make an effort. It is too much work to do anything other than just exist. I am exhausted. Sleep and unconsciousness are not the same things. There is no rest in my unconsciousness. It takes me back to my fever dreams; where I find Cal waiting for me, honey eyes sweet with affection and a hint of joy. Those eyes make me want to survive this, to return to him.

I don't lose consciousness again. I lay there for what could be days for all my sense of time, just waiting, waiting for something, anything to happen. People come in and out. I listen to the whisperings, pretend not to notice as they check my temperature and monitor my heart rate. I know what I will see when I finally decide to open my eyes, I am not ready to face him. I have been listening to him pace for over an hour. I can hear his misery in his steps. The quiet shuffle haphazardly integrated into a usually confident stride.

I resign myself to the idea that he will not leave me until he must. I had hoped for a moment that duty would pull him away, or that his anger would lead him back to court find out what happened to me. I can't put it off any longer. I Breathe deeply through my nose and ball my fists in the over-starched sheets. The lights are bright enough to hurt my eyes. I make a small noise in protest and squeeze them shut again. The pacing breaks and he is by my side. His hands burn against my skin. It isn't uncomfortable enough to outclass my other symptoms, so I don't make a move to stop him when he rests my palm flat against his cheek and holds it there. My arm aches, but I don't resist.

"Why is she so cold." He sounds like a little boy. Fear, anger, and sorrow all hang in the air, waiting for an answer, reassurance that he isn't going to lose that last person for which he feels anything other than hatred. I twitch my thumb. His skin is smooth and wet. _I didn't know he could still cry._

"It's the treatment. It seems to be working, but we won't know for sure until she wakes up." Larissa Is quiet, but close by. I assume the cold is from the healing. Burning fingers touch my face and trail down my neck.

"Larissa, when you are finished with the damage from the poison, will do something about her other scars?" Anyone who didn't have their full attention focused on him, would not have noticed the quiver in his voice.

"Do you mean the ones on her back and neck?" there is no judgment behind her words, but I hold my breath until Maven answers her.

"I mean every mark on her that I am responsible for. Especially this." He tugs gently at the collar of my shirt to reveal the brand on my collarbone. I reach up and grasp his wrist. My muscles scream at the exertion, and there is no strength in my grip.

"Not that one." My mouth and throat are dry and sticky, the words feel like coarse sand, tearing at my vocal cords. I push them out anyway. I cannot let her heal the brand he left on me. It is my steady reminder of what he is. Without it, I fear that I will forget everything he has put me through, everything that I am fighting for, everything that makes me who I am. Moreover, I now know that it gives me leverage over him. He is ashamed of what he has done to me; perhaps he also feels shame for killing innocent newbloods and children. "You can take my scars, all of them, but this one."

"Mare." He pulls away, but I don't release his wrist. My strength is sapped, and he could break my grip with no effort, but he doesn't. I wonder if he feels something similar to what I do; if his wants and needs also exist in a near constant state of conflict. Wanting to touch or be touched, but needing to maintain enough distance to keep from being consumed. I force my eyes open. The harsh light makes them water. It takes almost a minute to focus my vision. I find his eyes first. They are bloodshot; bright silver veins run through the blue; they are hard, like crystals. I let go of him and let my hand fall limply back to the mattress.

"Miss Barrow, how do you feel?" I watch him withdraw into himself, finding a place to stand along the wall. I don't take my eyes off him.

"I need water." When she stands, I expect the cold to diminish a little, but it doesn't. She leaves the room. Maven says nothing when she leaves; he won't even look at me. "What happened?"

"You almost died. Again." He never looks up.

"You say that like it is my fault." Small tendrils of fire curl around his hands as he twists his wrists to spark his flamemakers. Maven is upset. I don't know who he is angry with. When he crosses his arms over his chest, small black scorch marks stand out on the bright white plaster walls. Larissa comes back in; I take the cold water from her.

"Your Majesty, I have to ask you to step out while I speak to Miss Barrow." He pushes away from the wall and says nothing as he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. "How do you feel? Any grogginess, dizziness, nausea, headache?"

"My entire body hurts, and I am cold." The water helps, but the words still scratch at my throat.

"That is from the filtering, I will soothe the pain, but you will probably feel cold for several hours." She busies herself with searching the cabinets. When she finds a heavier blanket, she tucks it around me. For just a moment, I remember my mother and the way she doted on me when I was brought to Piedmont. It was the first and only time I recall her doing so.

"Filtering? What does that mean? What happened?" I wince, not from pain, but from the whining sound in my voice.

"You were poisoned. But don't worry, you are fine now. The toxins were cleaned from your blood, and I can start repairing the damage. You'll be under my care for the next several days." She stares at the monitors. Larissa has not made eye contact since I woke.

"Thank you. For everything" It is an earnest platitude, but she knows that I truly mean it. I drink from the cup again.

"How about your abdomen? And pain or discomfort?"

"Yes. It's like being stabbed." She looks at me for the first time.

"Show me where." I Place my hand high on the right side of my abdomen. Larissa seems to breathe a sigh of relief. "Sarah is my great aunt you know. She had a beautiful singing voice before... Is she alright? Do you know?" I study her for a moment, trying to decide if I can trust her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. You have no reason to trust me." She starts making notes in her folder. When she looks up at me again, she is all business. "I am going to ask you a difficult question, you don't have to answer, but I hope that you will. The wounds on your thighs. Are they self-inflicted?"

"Yes." I offer her nothing more. She nods.

"I can heal them, but that won't make the compulsion go away. Is there anyone you can talk to about this?" There is a very fine line between sympathy and pity and were I being truthful; I would admit that I hate both equally.

"No. I am alone here. Talking to anyone about what drives me to this puts them in danger. My thoughts are treasonous." She gives a knowing nod.

"I see." She is quiet for a moment. "You can talk to me. I will take that risk and responsibility." She meets my eye. "I will earn your trust." I look at her skeptically. "There is one last thing before I start." The young healer looks uncomfortable. It makes me anxious. "The pills you took this morning, I would not have given them to Kyra if I had known."

"Known what?" She looks up at me, eyes wide.

"You don't even know." Now she looks tense, scared even. "You're pregnant. About three weeks by my estimate." I can't breathe. "So, there is no way… The father is—"

"Who else knows?"

"No one. The healers who assisted me are not strong enough in their powers to detect such a young fetus yet. Which brings me to another difficult question, what do you want to do?" My entire body contracts and convulses "You don't have to decide now, you have time. It's still early, but neither the pills nor the poison seemed to have hurt the fetus." She stands. "Rest now. I will be back to check on you in a couple of hours."

"Larissa, Sarah has a beautiful voice again." She smiles broadly.

"Thank you." There is relief in her eyes; perhaps I could try to trust her.

"Please don't tell the King." I hope that my eyes provide the sense of imploring that screams through the back of my mind.

"I wouldn't dream of it." With that, she leaves me alone with my thoughts.

 _What am I going to do?_ My mind spins off in every conceivable direction at once. I am not getting enough air. I squeeze my eyes and my fists closed. My nails dig into my palms, and I use the sharp sting to keep me in the moment.

I had always presumed that I would have children, though, I have never truly wanted them or even actually liked them. But, that was before my life took an abrupt turn. I hadn't thought about kids since the day I fell into the Queenstrial Arena. Before that day, it was assumed by everyone that should I survive my conscription, I would marry Killorn, and we would have our own kids, just like everyone else in The Stilts. Since that day, it has been relatively safe to assume that if Elara did not kill me, the rebellion would. So, I put it from my mind. There was no reason to worry about something that was probably never going to be.

But now, it is happening, and I am panicking. I need to calm down; Maven could be back any moment. I try to concentrate on breathing slow deep breaths. With my eyes closed, I slip back into the very first fever dream I had while under the influence of the poison. It seems so obvious now that the dream was my mind and body trying to prepare me for this. It is too little too late. I don't think there is anything that could have prepared me for this. Even if I were older, and my life wasn't in such a volatile state, I would not be prepared for this. _How could we have been so reckless?_

I shut down. I shut it out. I can't deal with this right now. I will not make this decision until Larissa tells me I have too. Now is not the time.

The mission first.

* * *

 **Maven's POV**

I am sulking in the hall when the healer exits her room. I stare at the floor with my hands shoved in my pockets I want nothing more than to sink back into the wall and be left alone with my thoughts; with my position and status, that will never be. I can't fathom why she would want to keep such a mark. Why, if she has feelings for me, would she want to be reminded of such pain and suffering. I know she is struggling with her feelings, she carves her struggles in skin. I knew it the moment I saw the perfect line scratched into her palm. I had hoped that it was not a recurring compulsion, but when I saw them again last night, deeper, longer, angrier, hidden where there would be little chance of someone discovering them; I knew that she is hiding much more than she is confiding in me. I understand the compulsion. I do it myself, mine, however, builds up until I explode and hit something. It is far more satisfying or me to do damage something else along with myself.

I know that I am at fault. That she struggles with how she feels because of how I betrayed her, how I tortured her to keep her close, and my inability to separate myself from my anger long enough to have a meaningful interaction with her without making her question whether I am trying to change. She will never know the self-loathing it breeds in me, the knowledge that I am responsible for her anguish. I count the tiles on the floor. I have too many questions for Lady Skonos, but I can't bring myself to ask her any of them. She cannot know the depth of my feelings for Mare. No one can. I silently will her to pass by me without a word, to leave me to my wallowing. She doesn't; she stands at a respectful distance waiting for me to acknowledge her. I don't make eye contact.

"How is she?" I'm trying too hard to keep my mood out of my voice; it sounds flat and disinterested in my ears. I'm sure It makes no matter to her how I sound, they all know what I am.

"I'll be keeping a close eye on her for a few days, but she will make a full recovery." I can feel her eyes on me. I'd prefer to brood, but she is waiting for something. I could dismiss her, put an end to this, but curiosity gets the better of me. I shift my gaze from the floor and turn my head to look at her. Larissa stands with a straight back and her eyes respectfully downcast. She looks tired. She has been working on Mare for hours without rest. I don't know how I will ever thank her for bringing her back to me.

"Is there something else, Lady Skonos?" The little blonde woman in front of me gives herself a little shake as though she is waking from a daydream. Her eyes are pale green. I had never bothered to notice before.

"No, Majesty, there isn't." When she moves to pass me, I reach out and grasp her elbow. My grip is firm, but not harmful; there is no heat in it.

"You wanted to say something. What was it?" Fear turns her eyes to jade. "There will be no reprisals." She shifts uncomfortably, but her eyes never leave my face. I am surprised at her boldness.

"You love her, don't you? You love her, and you have no idea how to express it, how to make her feel it, right?" I study her, unsure of her intentions, of whether or not confiding in her would be my downfall. I try to bite back the word, but it slips out despite my best efforts.

"Yes." There is a bubbling feeling in the pit of my stomach. A single word will be my undoing. One quiet syllable of admission will bring down everything that my mother worked so diligently to build. She bows her head knowingly.

"Then let her go." It's quiet, barely audible and laced with fear. It takes me several deep breaths to keep my word, no reprisals.

"She is free to leave if she chooses to." I have to push the words out from between my teeth. The tension in my jaw making it ache. I pull my hand away so to keep from burning her.

"That is not true, Your Majesty, and she knows that even more than you or I do." She takes a step back. I am sure that what she is about to say is tantamount to treason, but I won't kill her until Mare is safely recovered. "If you want her to love you in return, give her the choice to do so. Don't demand it of her, that will only breed further resentment." The entire width of the hall separates us by the time she finishes. The air is hot and dry. Lady Skonos drops her gaze and dips into a neat curtsey. "I have overstepped. My apologies, Majesty." She does not rise.

"Thank you, Lady Skonos. You're dismissed." She rises slowly but leaves at a brisk pace. Before she turns the corner at the end of the hall, she turns back.

"When you go in, don't agitate the patient. Doctor's orders." She disappears around the corner. I watch her go, a small smile on my lips. When I turn back toward the door, anxiety grips me. I stop just short of opening it. I want to be near her, but it is my fault she is in here. I am to blame every time I have had to sit vigil over her. I am a plague on her life. If I were a stronger man, I would let her go, let her be happy. But I'm not. I push the door open slowly and peek my head inside. She is curled up on her side with her back to me. I know better than to believe that she is asleep. She doesn't sleep when she is on her own unless exhaustion overtakes her. I am culpable for that too, I suppose. I haven't worked out what to say to her when she addresses me.

"Is there a reason you are lurking in the doorway?" I step inside and close the door behind me. Before I can open my mouth to confront her, she speaks again. "I'm sorry, Maven." _How the Hell is she so disarming._ I came in here to ask her why she wants to keep that hideous brand, but now there are no words. She makes me feel like an awkward boy. I am not confident. I am not a man. I am not a King. I begrudge her for the insecurity that she cultivates in me.

"What could you possibly have to be sorry about?" I chide myself for the snide tone. _I was told to keep her calm._ I shift uncomfortably between feet, keeping my head down.

"This, all of it." There is a catch in her voice. _Has she been crying?_ I look up, watching her shoulders for signs of distress.

"Are you apologizing for being poisoned?" I take a few steps forward. I am not close enough to touch her yet, but still, I stop, unsure of how she will react to my unpracticed attempts to comfort her.

"No. I am apologizing for putting myself in the position to be poisoned." There is more she wants to say. I wait, curious to know what she is thinking. The thought strikes me as odd, I have never been interested in knowing what is going on in someone else's head. "I acted on my feelings without considering the consequences. I should have waited. All my impulsive actions have done is put us in danger and you at risk of losing control of the High Houses." I am at a loss. Her logic makes my head ache. I close the distance between us. Leaning over her, I smooth the loose hair away from her face. She flinches. I disregard it and the little wound it inflicts and sit on the edge of the bed.

"Mare," I want to plead with her, make her see reason But I know better. She is stubborn, and there will be no convincing her that it is not her fault. I draw the back of my hand down her cheek., It is cold but soft. "you are not responsible for what happened."

"Don't try to comfort me. I know what I did." She pulls her shoulder in tight, putting as much space between us as she can without getting out of bed. I try again; I don't want to let her pull away from me. I need her with me, on my side if I am going to get rid of Iris. I reach for her again.

"No one is to blame for this other than Iris, and she will be dealt with accordingly." There is anger in my voice. I have no control over my emotions right now.

"You can't punish her. She acted within her rights." There are tears in her voice. I wish she would look at me.

"There are laws in place to govern those rights. The Queen cannot just poison a mistress and expect to be acquitted of wrongdoing." I have to take a moment to calm myself before I continue. "However, you signed the contract before we consummated our relationship. My Queen committed treason against her King, and she will be punished to the full extent of the law." She turns and fixes me with a glare that would have burned right through me if our abilities were reversed.

"Excuse me? I did what?" The indignation in her voice is expected.

"As far as anyone is concerned, you are my sworn consort, legally my mistress. No one can touch you" The lights flicker, sparks fly from the machines that monitor her vital signs. I listen to her heart rate increase—each beep reminding me how I have betrayed her trust yet again. There is no way she can understand the scope of what I have done to keep her alive in the last twelve hours, and it will be days before she forgives me for protecting her. She won't even consider it until her circumstances force her to do so, just like every other transgression I have committed. I can't bring myself to admit to her that she was right; that the court rallied behind the Queen and called for Mare's death for treason and adultery. It is certainly better that she lay her anger on me for my choices than turning her loose on the court for vengeance, or worse, letting her stand trial and be executed for our indulgences. However, I need to be careful, she and I are volatile, liable to combust at any moment.

"And what exactly have I agreed to?" There is venom in her voice. My viper has reared her lovely head again. I don't move, lest she strike me.

"It will be amended when you are well, Until—" I try to keep my voice even and quiet. The last thing I want is for her to lash out at me, physically. With my temper so erratic, it could be dangerous for her.

"No, tell me what you have put my name to. Have I finally given in and agreed to be yours, your Majesty? Will I be at your disposal? Subject to your every whim? Am I sworn to only you?—" I rise to her challenge. My patience has run out; I will not be reprimanded for protecting what is mine, nor will I allow her to question my motives.

"If you are asking if you are free to be with someone else, the answer is no. The moment you came back to me you relinquished that privilege." This time, it is my turn to hiss and spit. "You already knew that though. You knew when you returned to me that I would never allow you to be with anyone other than me. Especially him. I'd kill you both before I let you find a way to be together." Rage boils beneath the surface just thinking of her with Cal.

"Don't change it." She drops her gaze, staring down at her arms, which are crossed low over her stomach. She almost looks demure.

"Why not? I could give you more freedom, Make your life comfortable and safe. You just have to let me." She doesn't move.

"No amount of amending will give me back my freedom to choose to be with you. That hurts more than anything you have ever done to me." Once again, she has reduced me to nothing, taking both my fight and my weapon. I let my shoulders drop. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to rest, and I can't do that with you hovering." She turns away, dismissing me. I stand but don't move to leave.

"The nightmares—" My mind returns to the first night I left her alone, the screaming and the errant electricity in the air. I don't want to put her through that again.

"I prefer them to you." She hasn't the slightest idea how her words cut through me. I squeeze my fists closed, slamming the door when I leave. In the corridor, I slump against the door and slide down. I lean my head back against it and stare up at the tiled ceiling. The sound of her quiet sobbing carries through the door and into the silent hall. After what feels like hours, she falls silent. I give her a few more minutes to fall into a fitful sleep, and then I will go back in. I don't want to leave her to languish in her dark dreams.

When I reenter the room, it is empty. She has pulled all the tubes and wires free of her skin and disappeared. I suppress a smile and go to the open window. The fire escape hasn't been let down. She went up. I follow her. The window is more of an obstacle than I thought it would be. Her small, agile frame would allow her to fit through it quickly and quietly. I, on the other hand, struggle, my long limbs making me look and feel ridiculous as I squeeze through the frame.

The wind blows unusually cool for the season on the roof. It whips her hair around her face and makes her gown cling to her. I shove that thought down. Dark clouds gather on the horizon obscuring the stars, A storm is coming.

"You had the opportunity to run, and you didn't" I raise my voice to be heard over the wind, when she doesn't respond immediately, I assume that she has not heard me I take a few more steps and Open my mouth to call to her again, but the words are lost in a sudden strike of violent purple light and heat. It lands just inches ahead of me. I heed her none-too-subtle warning., but still have to wonder whether she missed on purpose.

"Who says I am not running?" She is too close to the edge of the roof. The ledge that marks the roofline is low, a simple step up or a strong gust of wind in the wrong direction would mean a six-floor fall to the pavement below.

"You did when you chose to come up here instead of disappearing into the night. We both know how easily you could have escaped me, that the only thing holding you here is the power you grant me over you." The truth in words strike me as I say them. Should she ever decide that her life has as much value as those she fights for and stop sacrificing herself for them, she could walk away, and I would be powerless to stop her.

"There is more than one way to run away." The sky steadily darkens overhead, the clouds move in with unnatural speed, as if aided by a Windweaver. I watch the pale purple energy pulsate in the growing chaos. The moon disappears behind the clouds. The only light is a dim purple glow from the sky.

"Look at me." She doesn't move or respond. "Mare, look at me." It is a command from her King, and still, she refuses. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming in frustration. Warm metallic blood flows over my tongue. I swallow it down. Heat and static crackle through the air. They snap and pop as the charged particle meet the sparks and embers from flamemakers and my tense muscles. "it won't save them." Her head snaps up. "Your death will only make me resent them more." There it is. She finally turns to face me. Her eyes are made of glass, and her lips tremble, she looks chalky and sick. She should not be standing, let alone throwing a temper tantrum using her abilities. I am astonished she can even wield her power in this state. "Why would I show them mercy for killing you? For forcing you to sacrifice your life for theirs?" I can't read her expression. I continue. "I am not just talking about the reds." Lightning dances around her hands. I am in danger of going too far, but I can't stop now. I have right where I want her. "Your family, the rebels, my brother; your blood will be on their hands as well." She falters. I choose to believe it is because of her family and not the traitor Prince. The sparks die as I approach her. The wind is still cold. She shivers. "They would all let you burn to save themselves. They have proved that to be true at every opportunity. They send you straight into harm's way without a second thought. They choose power over you. They would allow your suffering for their happiness." Her face is blank. I take the opportunity to touch her hand. When she doesn't pull away, I sweep her into my arms and place myself between her and the ledge. My final argument is just above a whisper in her soft magnolia-scented hair. "I am as terrible as they are; hurting you, deceiving you, Keeping you for my own selfish reasons. But for all the heinous things that I have done, know that I would never let you die for me. Your life gives me meaning, and I would do anything to protect you, even risk your wrath." I lay my cheek against the top of her head holding her more tightly than is probably necessary. "You believe me, don't you?" She doesn't hesitate long before she nods, pressing her face into my shirt. I can already feel her tears. I stand with her for several minutes, stroking her hair. She twists her fingers in the fabric. I take off my jacket on put it around her shoulders. She looks so small under the thick shoulders of the jacket. I put my arms back around her. "I would die to protect you."

When the rain starts to fall, I take her back inside. I don't bother with the fire escape. Instead, I melt the lock for the roof access door and take her down the stairs. She is still weak. The treatment may have been just as bad as the poison, and it is likely that she ripped the tubes out before the machine finished cycling her blood through the filter. Despite her frailty, she will not let me do more than assist her. I could easily overpower her and carry her back downstairs, but I allow her autonomy and keep close in case she needs me. The caregiver is a hard role for the selfish to play.

Mare doesn't speak to me again until we arrive at Whitefire, just after sunrise. I don't hold it against her, mostly because she has been holding herself against me since we left the hospital roof. She slept curled around me so that II might keep her warm while lady Skonos tended to the more severe damage done by the Foxglove poison. Even now, she clings to my arm like a lifeline as we walk slowly through the palace. I had no idea how starved I was for physical affection until she started showing it to me. The little glances, the light caress of her hand, every little gesture takes me to a place inside that I could never otherwise reach. A place I thought my mother had carved out of me long ago. Regardless of what her motives may have been in the beginning, I want to believe that she feels something for me now, even if it is tainted by hatred because of my vile mishandling of every decision I've made since meeting her.

"Where are we going? Isn't the infirmary the other way?" She asks as we stop in front of the elevator. She is not strong enough for the stairs. We step inside. We are alone for only a moment, but a small ember of warmth inside my chest grows into a full flame. I want to hold her, but fear keeps me from acting on my feelings.

"Do you want to stay in the infirmary?" There is only the slightest hint of teasing in my voice. In has been quite some time since I flirted with a girl. I am out of practice.

"No, I just thought that since Lady Skonos would be caring for me, I would need to be where she is." I regret my tone when she gets defensive and loosens her grip on my arm. I tilt her chin up to look at me.

"You should start expecting people to come to you." A small voice in the back of my mind screams for me to kiss her, but I freeze. " _Too much, too fast"_ rings in my ears. I don't want to risk losing her again. When the doors to the elevator slide open, we are met by my guards and hers. "Besides, I was hoping you would stay with me; let me try my hand at not being everything you hate for a few days." She studies me for a moment as I guide her out into the hall. Her brown eyes are intense with scrutiny. I don't know what she is looking for. After a few moments, her expression softens, she apparently saw what she needed to.

"All right." I smile despite myself. "Impress me." The guards let us into my rooms. Once we are alone, she lets go of me. And moves so she faces me. I brush loose hair back and tuck it back behind her ear.

"Yes, my darling?" She bites her lip. "You can ask me for anything." I put my finger to her lips and draw it out from between her teeth. "The suspense is killing me, just tell me what you want."

"I want you to kiss me." I look down at her, her eyes sparkle.

"Why?" It isn't my intention to dissuade her, I have never wanted anything more than I want to kiss her at this moment, but I have to know why she wants it. I broke our fragile trust and must suffer the consequences for it.

"I want to feel what feel for me." Her voice is hushed, but confident.

"I showed you that when we—"

"I felt your lust. Now, I need to feel your love." I wrap my arm around her waist and gently pull her to me. She lays both hands on my chest, giving up her control voluntarily. My fingers curl in her hair as I cradle her head. I hold her against me, my gaze never leaving her face. When my lips meet hers, I feel as though I could outshine the sun.


	11. Perspective

**Author's Note:**

 **I'm sorry it took so long; things happened.**

 **There are no hard triggers in this one, but the standard warnings for language and allusions to suicide apply.**

 **I hope you like original characters!**

 **Tread Carefully and Happy Reading!**

 **Dash's POV**

The King storms out of the hospital room like a petulant child and Mare starts to act. She has undoubtedly been planning since she woke up; her deception is well-crafted. Exaggerated sobbing covers the sound of her clumsy movements—Mare is certainly stronger than she looks, but she lacks her usual grace; the poison has taken a toll on her—Her brown hair hangs lifelessly around her colorless face; she looks exhausted. She starts by turning down the volume of the beeping machines. When she pulls the mess of tubes and wires from her arms and chest, blood stains the sterile white tile floor. A small pool forms as the machine that has been filtering the toxins from her blood empties unceremoniously onto the floor. The mewling whine of the machine turns to a harsh grating as the liquid lubrication runs dry. She gives it a small jolt that causes her to sway where she stands. When the beeping of the heart monitor turns to a dull, flat tone, she lays a hand on it and presumably manipulates it until it mimics her heart rate again. Satisfied with the illusion she has been weaving, she searches the room. Finding some paper and a pen she scratches out a note and tucks it into the pocket of her hospital gown. From there, she moves to the window; struggling to open it. When she climbs through, I follow with every intent to stop whatever is about to happen.

The night sky is overcast, and the threat of rain hangs heavy in the air. The light from the moon obscured by swift moving wisplike clouds that cast shadows that could be mistaken for smoke crawling over every surface. The visible stars are thin and watery tonight. A light and chilly breeze saunters through the air. When I reach the roof, she is facing the fire escape, arms crossed, waiting. My footsteps are quiet, but she knows I'm here.

"Dash, I need you to do something for me." I step out into the night, letting go of my grip on the light. She looks me over, scrutinizing. "We don't have much time, Maven will follow as soon as he realizes I am gone."

"How can I help?" She wanders over to the edge of the roof. I follow, keeping close and at the ready should I need to react quickly. My job is to watch over her, make sure she doesn't do anything drastic while she is a danger to herself. My near constant presence was requested after Kyra realized what Mare has been doing to relieve her stress and anxiety. I am curious about how she is doing, where her head is, but her earnestness makes me hold back.

"I assume you heard everything? That you know…" I let her trail off. I do know, but I keep quiet. "I need you to get a message to someone." The wind starts to pick up, and the clouds darken and move into the horizon. I welcome the summer storm. "To Cal." She isn't looking at me, but I nod.

"Where can I find him?" I can hear the urgency in my voice. I wonder casually where it is coming from.

"I don't know for sure. Probably Delphie, or maybe The Rift." She is quiet for a moment. She holds out the folded note from her pocket. A strong gust of wind almost whisks it away. I tuck it into my pocket for safe keeping. "Anabel will know where he is and she is in the palace. I don't trust her though." I bow my head. I would not trust the woman that drove a wedge between me and my love either. "And Dash?" I look up again. "Do I need to ask you not to tell him?" I have never heard her sound so miserable, forlorn. I shake my head.

"I'll find him. I would prefer not to leave you unprotected though." She turns her head and raises an eyebrow at me. "I know, I did a bang-up-job protecting you from the Queen..."

"Stop that; I don't blame you for this. Now go, Maven is coming." I wrap the thin light back around myself like a silk sheet and take a few steps back. I keep my eyes trained on her as Maven climbs up onto the roof. I had barely heard him climbing the rusted metal, how had she? The tension in her shoulders rolls down through her arms causing her to clench and unclench her fists. Little sparks jump off her palms every time she opens her hands. She is still upset with him. The wind picks up around her. It howls as he approaches her. I can't be sure if she is feeding the storm or if the storm is feeding her, either way, there is no telling where her power stops and the squall begins.

"You had the opportunity to run, and you didn't." He yells to get her attention, but she refuses him, choosing instead to stare off into the storm. She doesn't even acknowledge him until he gets too close. A brilliant shaft of purple light strikes within inches of the King. He looks unfazed by her sudden outburst. Flash burns color his face and hands. He is fearless in the face of her wrath.

"Who says I am not running?" The wind carries her voice to me. The anger and resentment etched into it play right into the tableau she has created. I had followed her up here believing she was suicidal as I am sure the King does as well. I didn't think It possible for the King to feel more than lust for her, but it seems I was wrong; of course, he doesn't know that she carries the heir of the True King.

"You did when you chose to come up here instead of disappearing into the night. We both know how easily you could have escaped me, that the only thing holding you here is the power you grant me over you." Something I can't I identify passes through the King's eyes, the purple light that dances overhead illuminates the unknown expression.

"There is more than one way to run away." I watch as every emotion that falls between fear, anger, and sadness flashes across his face. He cares for her.

"Look at me. Mare, look at me." Frustration and hot, humid air roil around the angry King. Mare doesn't move. When he speaks again, the tenor of his voice calms. "It won't save them. Your death will only make me resent them more." When she turns to face him, she is wearing a mask of perfect detachment. "Why would I show them mercy for killing you? For forcing you to sacrifice your life for theirs?" He pauses as if waiting for her to reply, when she doesn't, he presses on. "I am not just talking about the reds." A little ball of energy whirls in her palm, throwing off sparks as it spins faster and faster. "Your family, the rebels, my brother; your blood will be on their hands as well." Mare extinguishes the ball as he approaches her. There is a sad, faraway look in her eyes. I recognize that look from the mirror; I see it in my own eyes when I think about Sebastian and his assignment in Piedmont. "They would all let you burn to save themselves. They have proved that to be true at every opportunity. They send you straight into harm's way without a second thought. They choose power over you. They would allow your suffering for their happiness." She rearranges her face until her expression is again unreadable. When she allows him to embrace her, his voice drops away. I make my way over to the fire escape and climb back down. After a performance like that, I do not doubt that Mare will be all right on her own while I am fulfilling the mission she gave me.

I return to the palace as soon as I can make it through the city without being seen. The rain makes it difficult to shield myself. The water bends the light in ways that are unpredictable. I don't want to chance someone catching a glimpse of me. Once I am inside Whitefire It won't matter, it will be getting back in that will be tricky. I never applied for "asylum." Never came to the palace looking for protection and sanctuary from the rebels. My ability was never documented, my name never added to the registry.

I heard stories of what the King did to the newbloods before Mare came back. How he had children murdered or perhaps killed them himself. You can never really guess at what hides in the darkest places of shadowed hearts; what secret things might bring it joy. I heard whispers of a facility where Newbloods that were granted asylum are held, studied to find out what we are, how we came to be. I would never let Mare know what I have heard, not until I've found proof. That was what I was doing in the palace before the rebels recruited me. Sebastian—Bash—and I, we were looking for evidence of the King's secret deeds. Bash and his older brother are both Newbloods, but Jaxon hasn't been seen since he came to the King for help. When Bash came to Whitefire, I followed. I was not about to let the man I love walk into the den of a beast on his own. Among the Kings guard, I found a draft order for a few Newbloods under protection to be sent in to infiltrate the Scarlet Guard. I added his name to the list of recruits.

I put my mission on hold to watch over Mare. I had hoped that watching her with the King would reveal something that would help me, but in the short time I have been watching her, I have come to care for her, the sacrifice she is making is one few others would make. As I walk through the streets, I wonder if I could find it in myself to do what she does.

The rain is just starting to pick up again as I slip in through a poorly guarded service entrance. The halls are dark and quiet, I prefer them that way, not because I need the cover, but because I prefer the solitude and isolation. My ability makes me ideal for surveillance and spying, so I almost never get a moment to myself anymore. In those moments, my mind wanders. Usually, it wanders to Bash. Tonight, however, it wanders to my abandoned mission. The King is out, and a full complement of Kings guard is out of the palace, patrols will be light. I consider breaking into the King's privet office to search for documentation of the black site to which newbloods have disappeared. When I pass by the door, I'm tempted enough to test the knob. One day, I will have to ask Mare to teach me how to pick a lock properly. I abandon the door and continue to the former Queen's rooms.

Her rooms are in the residence wing on the opposite side of the courtyard than the rooms I typically occupy. Wait in the shadows for a servant to enter the room so I can slip in. It is after dinner, so I settle in to wait. I watch the shadows cast by the rain on the large windows and the security lights on the outer perimeter of the palace. The colors start to blur as I retreat into my thoughts. I almost miss the small and silent servant girl that goes in to turn down the bed and replace the linens. By a small stroke of luck, she leaves the door cracked as she sets down the fresh towels and I slip in only having to push the door a little bit. Anabel has not yet retired to her rooms for the evening. Her luggage has been unpacked and stowed except for a hat bow on a console table against the far wall.

The room is dressed in orange and red hues. It looks like the fire that should accompany the explosive force of a Lerolan oblivion. When the red girl finishes her task, I hear the quiet click of the lock. I don't dare release the light and show myself. After several minutes, I make a quick adjustment as the motion activated lights wink out. Now is my chance to investigate. As I open the hat box, I hope that the empty room is not being diligently watched by the Kings guard and count my blessing that there is not a sensor in this part of the room. I deflate a little bit when I discover that the hat box holds only a hat. I set the lid aside and lift the hat, making sure that there is nothing hidden beneath this red thatch monstrosity adorned with ribbon and some sort of mesh netting. Nothing. As I drop the hat back into place, it occurs to me that the bottom of the box sits too high for its depth. I lift the hat just enough to slide my fingers under the stiff brim and tap in the bottom of the box. A hollow sound greets me. I push down slightly on one edge off the circular bottom, and the other side lifts just enough for me to lift the false bottom and see what is hidden inside. I remove both the hat and the partition to reveal a small compartment filled with what looks to be written correspondence, however, there is not enough light for to read any of the fine handwriting.

I make my way over to the large bank of windows. The curtains have been drawn for the night, and I fear that a sensor will illuminate the room is they move too much. I head for the far side of the windows and slowly edge myself in behind the heavy drapes. I hold my breath as I move hoping that t will limit the movement of the fabric. The blackout curtains block the security light as it sweeps across the vast estate; It provides just enough light in its passes to let me read the letters.

The first is just a short note confirming that Mare had left the base in Piedmont and her mission was underway and a concession that Tiberius had done exactly as Anabel had predicted and ran off with her. The second is a bit longer and appears to be from Volo Samos, King of The Rift. The letter is difficult to read; the writing is stylized and has too much flourish to be written by King Samos' hand. It details troop movements for a coordinated assault on the capital should the occasion arise. I tuck that information away for a later date. The third is what I had hoped to find, Confirmation That The true King had arrived at The Lerolan Estate and was otherwise unharmed. I assume that this letter was to be sent from the Rebel connections inside the Palace.

Having recovered what I need, I return the pages and the hat box to its original state and take up a position next to the door to wait. I have tried my luck enough tonight; I don't want to chance someone seeing an open door as I leave. It troubles me more than I care to admit that the former Queen would bring such delicate information into the palace with her. If she is caught with these in her possession, she will expose the entire operation. Moreover, there isn't any evidence that messages had ever been coded or an attempt to hide their true nature had ever been made. Mare's distrust of Anabel is well-founded. What kind of Game is the old woman playing?

Shortly after the clock strikes the hour, the lock clicks again. This time Anabel herself steps into the room closing the door quickly behind her. The lights come on immediately and she strides across the room to secure her box. She carries the box into the washroom and shuts the door with a snap behind her. I listen for a moment at the door to the hall, there isn't a single sound. I slip out and make my way to the garages.

* * *

 **Cal's POV**

The pieces of a dismantled clock lay carefully arranged on the table before me. Tinkering is the only way to keep my distracted mind from wandering. My body still aches from running. I knew it would, I pushed myself too hard. I deserve it though. I let the promise of power get in the way. I let her walk away from me and into the burning center of a dying star on the verge of collapse. I give myself a shake and refocus my mind on the gear configuration. I study the moving parts as though they hold the answers to every question that churns in my head. _Could I give it all up? Could I hand over the keys to the kingdom without another thought? Could we be just a man and a woman together, unconcerned with revolutions and politics? Could we find happiness in only each other? We have never had the opportunity to be together without the urgency of a short and brutal life; is there enough there to build a life on?_ It has taken me hours to puzzle out this winding mechanism, perhaps if I sit here long enough, I will also make a decision. _Love or Duty?_

I have been running through the same thoughts for the better part of two days. Justifications and rationalizations blur together when you are trying to force two pieces together that are evidently not meant to work in tandem; I cannot have both love and a kingdom. The decision should be an easy one. It makes no matter what I am trying to focus on, my thoughts always stray back to the same set of soft pink lips framed in honey colored skin. I know in my heart that I want nothing more than to be with Mare, but it goes against everything I was taught; duty and sacrifice are the burdens of a true King. Who am I to break with tradition and spit in the faces of three hundred years of Calore Kings.

I close my eyes and lean back in my chair, allowing myself a few minutes to think about Mare. I have been avoiding the broadcasts as much as possible since that night. Seeing her with him, knowing that she has been with him tears at me in ways I never thought possible. In the last two weeks, I have watched diligently. They were a lifeline ensuring that she was safe and unharmed, providing hints that she was making progress. But since the night she lit the sky, I can't make myself do it, I am not strong enough to watch her preform for the world without letting my jealousy trick me into believing the lie.

I sort through the memories I have of her. I don't want to think of her as a Lady of the court or a roughed-up rebel. What I want is one of the quiet moments in between. There are only a few of them, but they are everything.

"How are you so calm right now." Evangeline shatters my moment of peace. She has made a habit of it since she arrived in Delphie. Volo sent her as a steadfast reminder of our agreement; an agreement that I have every intention of breaking. "Do you know what has been happening in Archeon?" I open my eyes. Eve shakes her head slowly. "You don't, do you? You have no idea." Eve takes a few steps back, putting herself near the door. If I didn't know her any better, I would say she was planning an escape route.

"What are you rambling about?" I've gotten pretty good at tuning her out. I only hear about half of what she says anymore. She fidgets with her bracelets, reshaping the metal over and over again. She looks nervous. "Evangeline, what is it?"

"It's Mare." She has my full attention now.

"What about her? Is she alright? What did he do to her?" I inhale deeply through my nose to calm myself. In the beginning, I had hoped to save my little brother, to remind him of the man I thought he was becoming. Now, I want to tear him apart. It should be me that ends his life, not her. She should not have to live with the weight of him on her conscience, especially given their history and her feelings for him. He made her love him, and she has never let that go, much to my chagrin.

"Nothing. It was Iris; The Queen poisoned her" Her back is pressed against the wall now. She is afraid, afraid of how I will react. I don't blame her; she has never beat me in hand to hand. She can hold her own but has never taken me down. She watches my hands now for signs of my temper. They shake with rage, but I haven't set anything on fire, yet. "Mare is fine, but the power structure is volatile—" I stopped listening when she said that Mare is fine. I get up and head for the door. The room suddenly feels too small. I need to be outside. With the way I am feeling, even Whitefire would be closing in around me. Evangeline follows at a distance. I take the stairs two at a time, putting even more space between us. I don't stop until I am in the gardens. She emerges from the house a few seconds later.

"You have someone at court, yes?" I shove my hands in my pockets so I don't have to watch them tremble. Moreover, I don't want Evangeline to bear witness to my weakness. Not again. I have not yet forgiven her for calling me out at the Hall of the Sun, for reinforcing the instilled belief that compassion for the lower caste made me unworthy of my crown. For handing me the means to cut the delicate thread of my budding relationship with Mare.

"Of course, I do." Her flippant attitude grates at me today. When I glance at her, she is tracing the petals of a delicate white Moonflower. The sunlight makes her pale blonde hair gleam. She Is almost, dare I say, dainty.

"Someone who isn't bound to your family name, just to you?" She drops her hand and meets my eye. All her fierceness has returned.

"Yes." The word is almost a snarl. Perhaps she is annoyed that I have also now seen her weakness.

"Tell me everything you know," I demand answers from her. All pretense of gentility between us is lost. We are equals, But I have been doing this much longer than she has.

"Perhaps I can help." I react violently as a man not much older than I am appears on my left. I throw my fist out expecting to make contact, but the young man disappears causing me to catch only air and throw my shoulder. I only caught a glimpse, but I am sure he isn't a Haven Shadow. He speaks again from behind me. "Mare sent me." He reappears with his hands raised in supplication. "My name is Dash." I am skeptical, but let my guard down a bit. I have no doubt that he will not get away should things go south.

"You have two minutes to talk before I start my interrogation," Mare said she would use the whistles to contact me if she needed me. Yes, she would improvise if need be, but if this man is one of Maven's Newbloods, the situation just became infinitely more dangerous for all of us. Mine, Mare's, and Anabel's covers are all blown, and Evangeline will be taken captive as a bargaining chip, if not outright executed for treason. I owe him a chance to convince me before I incapacitate him.

"You will either believe me or you won't. I am going to reach into my pocket for the note I am supposed to give you; then you can do with me what you will." I watch him carefully while he reaches into his jacket. His movements are slow and deliberate, but it isn't me he watches, its Evangeline. Her reputation for cruelty extended out among the reds, I am sure he knows who she is and what she is capable of. He hands over a folded note with no seal. "I don't know what it says. I was just asked to get it to you. She didn't feel like there was enough time to whistle." Eve scoffs from behind me, but I understand his meaning.

"What does that even mean?" Her voice is nothing more than disdain and contempt for the newblood before us.

"I know what it means." I never take my eyes off him, watching for any sudden movements. His hands are back up where I can see them both. He stands very still.

"I won't move while you read it. She can kill me if I do." He doesn't sound afraid. Against my better judgment, I look down at the note in my hand. I am torn between wanting to trust Mare and this man—Dash, by extension and being on guard; the last thing I want is to expose the operation and my whereabouts. I tuck the note into my pocket, unread.

"What is going on in the capitol?" Eve starts to talk, but I hold my hand up. I can hear her fuming behind me. Even though the schism made her a Princess, she still reacts to me as though my station is above hers. Were I King, it would be, however, as a Prince in exile, I am nothing.

"Unrest and a deep divide between the High Houses—" I cut him off.

"Why are they divided? Is another faction trying to break into an independent state?" With the annexation of The Rift, it won't be long until other powerful governors start to toe the line. With enough support from less powerful houses, there may not be a Norta left to govern when Maven falls. The thought doesn't bother me as much as I believe it should.

"No, Mare is the fracture point. They were distrustful of her return to The King's favor and are weary of her proximity and influence over him as his Sworn Consort," Fury fares within me at the confirmation of Mare bedding my brother. I refuse to believe that she would sign a Consorts contract though. A contract like that would essentially make her the property of the King. She would have no autonomy without his consent. We could never be together with her name on that contract. "but now that The Queen has poisoned her and almost killed her, they have formed factions. The infighting is intense." The poisoning of a sworn Consort is a scandal of the highest magnitude. Not that Mare ever does anything that wouldn't be considered gossip worthy at court. Her being at court at all is a scandal. Every added layer of her influence and privilege is salt in the wound.

"I can't believe that Mare would sign a Consort's contract." Evangeline sounds almost as shocked as I feel. "She hates him more than I do and I almost married him." I turn my head just enough to give her an amused look. She scowls in response. "She isn't stupid enough to sign something like that, is she?"

"No, she isn't." I turn back to the suspicious newblood. "It's forged." Something that feels a lot like pure joy floods through me. The current carries a relief that I haven't felt in days. The knot of emotion in my chest loosens a bit. We still cannot be together, but none of the fault is hers. "He implied that it was signed after her poisoning, but he never left the hospital until she was released." My head hurts, this is too much for me to process. I hate the feeling of helplessness that is settling around me. I itch to move, to do something, anything to help her. "Of course, my assignment was to watch over her, not him so; I cannot know what happened while she was in isolation for treatment."

"Even so, if she doesn't publicly state that it is a forgery, she remains bound as though it isn't." Evangeline could never be accused of being dense. For all her faults, she is clever and thinks in webs of implications. If she would learn to hold her tongue, she would be even more dangerous.

"And she can't do that without putting both herself and her mission in jeopardy." Fuck. Either way, we lose. I don't want to admit that I am at a loss for what to do. Her voice tickles the back of my mind once more, telling me to be still, stay out of the city, and stay safe. The best way to protect her is not to protect her at all. The thought pisses me off. I turn and stalk back up the porch steps and throw myself into a wrought iron chair. I motion to the others to join me. We sit in silence for several moments. I glance over at Eve who continues to fidget with her bracelets but meets my eye. At that moment, the iron of Dash's chairs shifts and the filigree pattern under the armrests curls around and locks Dash in place. I sigh heavily but don't admonish her. She rises gracefully from her chair.

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave." She disappears through the front door leaving me alone with what could have been an ally turned hostage. An awkward silence stretches between us.

"Mare will recover just fine." I look up at Dash, He looks neither surprised nor vexed by his current situation. "She is under the care of Larissa Skonos." The name sounds vaguely familiar; it takes me too long to place her in Sarah's extended family. Larissa isn't much older than I am. As I think back, she reminds me of Sarah. It gives me a small measure of comfort to know that she is in compassionate hands. "She is struggling though." He pauses, waiting for me to respond. I don't. "She will need your support when she comes home." I study him, trying to discern if he is playing on my emotions or if he genuinely cares about her well-being.

"Why should I believe that Mare sent you?" He takes a second to consider his answer.

"You shouldn't. I there is no reason you should put her in danger by letting me leave here if you are not certain that I have her best interest in mind." He pauses again as if contemplating the impact of his words. "I was assigned to watch over her and without me there, she is alone with him."

"how long have you been her guard?" The interrogation has begun.

"I have been involved with the mission since the night she infiltrated the castle. I got her in and helped her capture Maven's interest. I have been her personal guard for only a couple of days." He pauses. I'm not certain if he is waiting for me to acknowledge him. I don't. "One of her ladies requested my services when she started to feel concerned about some of Mare's choices." He sounds hesitant. I don't understand why.

"What choices?" I press for answers. There is an uneasy look on his face; I wonder if it has anything to do with what he is not saying.

"I shouldn't say any more." I bristle. This is it. This is the moment I find out who this man is beholden to. I watch his eyes while he tries to decide which fate would be worse— my wrath or the wrath of the one his words would betray. "I won't disregard a direct request from Mare." He levels his gaze at me as if challenging me to question his loyalties. After nearly a full minute I look down.

"I want to trust you." I can hear the resignation in my tone. When did I become so soft? When did I lose my edge of hardened steel? When Did I start wanting to trust outsiders?

"Perhaps you should read the note." It takes me a few extra beats to remember the folded sheet of paper tucked into my pocket. I pull it out and stare at it for what feels like an eternity. I unfold it as though it is a flower not quite ready to open, if I am not careful, delicate paper petals will tear and its beauty will be lost. I glance over the handwriting before I read it. It looks to be hers, every flaw the same as I recall them, but just to be certain, I pull the little paperbacked novel out of my back pocket. I have carried it with me since I arrived in Delphie, I haven't found the strength to put it down yet. Still tucked just inside the cover is the note from Mare. I compare the two samples of handwriting until I am satisfied.

The late summer air clings to me as I read. It isn't the same humid and oppressive force that it was back in Peidmont, but the threat of impending rain makes the air thick and uncomfortable as I read the few scribbled sentences.

" _I won't ask you to forgive me. I don't know that either of us could. What I am asking, is that you be outside the Hexaprin Theatre just after sundown on fall's eve. It will all be over soon. Yours, M"_ As I think through her words, I almost don't notice the postscript near the bottom of the page. " _— is invaluable, return him unsinged."_ I glance up at the young man next to me, but he is busy tracing the iron filigree pattern with his eyes.

"Have you ever been in love?" My question cleary catches him off guard, but he doesn't hesitate in his response.

"Yes."

"Does she make you feel like you are everything and nothing at the same time?" Dash takes a moment to consider his answer and nods before he opens his mouth.

"But he also makes me feel like I can and will do anything just to see him again; it doesn't matter if it is twenty seconds or twenty years, I would do anything to get back to him." I bite the inside of my cheek and chew on his words for a moment.

"Eve." She steps back out onto the porch. She has been eaves dropping. "Let him go." She opens her mouth in what I assume will be protest, but I cut her off to address Dash. "Tell her the answer is yes." He nods. When Eve releases him, he stands quickly and starts down the stairs. Before he reaches the bottom, he turns back.

"Mare advised me that Lady Lerolan would know your whereabouts so that I could find you, while I was looking for clues, I discovered some correspondence between some of the leaders of our little crusade." He shuffles his weight between his feet looking very uncomfortable. "It's not my place, but I don't think any of you has been given the all the information. Be careful." With that, he disappears.

"Well, what the hell does that mean?" Irritation rises off Evangeline like steam.

"It means that Mare was right." I had thought I had seen the landscape of this battle. I thought I knew where the trenches would be laid, from where the shots would be fired. I thought that I knew who my enemies and my allies were. But now, I am sure that I was wrong. "We are being played from three sides." I turn and re-enter the house. "Are you coming?"


	12. Captivated

**Author's Note:**

 **There are no trigger warnings for this chapter. Standard warning for language applies.**

 **Tread Carefully and Happy Reading!**

 **Mare's POV**

"Does it hurt when I press here?" Larissa's hands are cold as they put pressure on different parts of my abdomen. I shake my head. "How about here?" She presses a little lower, again I shake my head, but she takes note of the slight wince. "Your liver is still a bit inflamed. Any cramping or bleeding?" She looks me in the eye. I don't think this question has anything to do with my poisoning.

"No." She gives a curt nod.

"How about any other symptoms? Any sensitivities, nausea, vomiting, soreness, fatigue? "She continues to keep a steady and level eye contact. I give the slightest nod. She makes a note in her book.

"I'm tired even though all I do is lay around in this room and I feel sick to my stomach off and on." I shift the blankets as an excuse to break eye-contact.

"Are you eating?" It's a pointed question. And she already knows the answer to.

"Some." I avoid her eye.

"Today?" Her tone is stern.

"No." I feel a sense of shame as I answer.

"My Lady, if you do not eat, you will not _grow_ any stronger. You have to _nourish_ your _fruitful_ recovery" The stresses in select words are slight, but don't go unnoticed. "To that end, I want to start rebuilding your strength and stamina. We will start small and work our way back up to your normal level of activity. Sound good?"

"Yes. Thank you." I got her point, and I am grateful that she is sympathetic. I'm not sure how much she knows about why I'm here, or what my plans are, but I think she understands the importance of me being strong and healthy and the urgency of hiding my condition.

"I want you to relax. I will return in an hour or so with a strength training plan." She turns on her heel and leaves the room at a brisk pace. Through the closed door, I can hear her addressing the guard at the door. "No one is to go in until I return." I give her my silent thanks. I am never left completely alone. If Larissa or Clarisse is not in here, Maven or one of the whole host of people charged with my care and safety is. And once again, I am a captive; trapped under both the King's thumb and his watchful eye. When I gave my tacit consent to be tended to by Maven and his Staff, I had hoped that the opportunity would present itself for me to get a closer look at his writings. Oh, how very wrong I was.

"But ma'am, The King will be returning from his meetings shortly. He will insist—" I don't recognize the guard's voice. I'm not surprised, I know very few of the soldiers pressed into the King's personal guard.

"Tell him that these are the doctor's orders and if he takes issue with them, he can come speak to me in my office." I suppress a chuckle.

"Yes, ma'am." He sounds a bit stunned but accepts the order.

Recovery has been slow. In the days immediately following my poisoning, I have been cloistered in the King's rooms. I have not seen anyone outside of my care team in nearly a week. Those who tend me are quiet and provide me no answers about what is going on out in the palace. Maven tells me nothing either. I try to bait him into telling me what he has done with Iris and Kyra, but he shuts me down gently every time I bring it up— _Don't worry yourself about such things, not until you have recuperated._

The first morning, I woke to him pacing the room. A quick step with a slight shuffle. There is no beat to it. He is nervous and cannot keep time in his stride. I sat up slowly to watch him study his hands until I couldn't take it anymore. I yelled at him to stop before he made me sick. Since then he has treated me like a wounded bird. He has kept quiet and distant both literally and figuratively. He leaves before I wake every morning and checks in on me throughout the day, but it is not until after dinner that we spend any significant amount of time together.

The days are long, but the nights are even longer. My lack of movement throughout the day makes it difficult to sleep at night. Maven and I both lie awake at night, neither acknowledging that the other is struggling. In the rigid silence, I can't stop myself from thinking of Cal; comparing him to his little brother, my feelings for them. I wrestle with everything inside me; the anger, guilt, love, sorrow—swirling and congealing into a hard knot that I cannot work through. The healing wounds on my thighs itch in those moments, bidding me to scratch them open and let them weep for me. I don't dare move to relieve all the pent-up emotion—I don't dare shatter the tension between Maven and me.

It takes me a couple of minutes to decide to test my limits today. My limbs are stiff and sore from the constant healer ordered bed rest, and I am still weak from the side effects of the poison. I feel bruised and battered as though I had been through battle but have nothing to show for my efforts. My stomach churns, the smell of the cleaning solution used in this room makes me want to be sick. This is so much different from the Silent Stone sickness. Then, I needed to work through it. I had nothing to lose, now I have everything to lose.

I reach out with my ability and sense the cameras. They are never on when Maven is in here, but they watch me all day. I know better than to turn them off, that would summon a guard almost immediately, but it isn't in me to let this opportunity pass. Instead, I follow the lines back to the camera that spies on the desk with the locked drawer. Luckily for me, it is also the only camera from which the closet can be seen. I short it out. I give it a couple of minutes before I move. When I do, I get up slowly and stagger my way to the bathroom. My weakness is exaggerated. As I stood, I realized that I am not nearly as weak as I thought I was. I leave the door open and splash some water on my face. From the bathroom, I move to the closet and quickly grab a change of clothes, then dash over to the desk to pick the lock and grab a journal. Just after I hear the lock click, I also hear the sitting room door open. Shit. I hope that It is a guard and not Maven. I pull a journal out of the drawer blindly and hide it under my clothes. I rearrange my face into what I hope is tired and pained and work hard to hide my relief when a guard knocks twice and enters the room.

"Are you alright, my Lady?" There is no genuine concern in his voice when he addresses me.

"I am fine. I just needed to rest for a moment. Thank you for your concern." The Guard nods, keeping his head bowed. "You can go now."

"I cannot, my Lady."

"Oh, I thought healer Skonos was going to insist that I not be disturbed for a little while?" I force as much confusion as I can muster into my voice. While I discreetly look this man over. He wears the colors of a banshee, and his uniform shows no honors or distinctions or significant ranks.

"She did, my Lady—"

"Then may I ask why her orders are being disobeyed? Is there a reason, Guardsman Miranos, that you would not want me to recover? Perhaps, you side with Her Majesty, Queen Iris; and that should be brought to the attention of the King...?" I muse aloud watching the color leach out of his face. He stutters trying to find an answer in the carpet. I wonder for a moment if it is indicative of what Maven is doing to the people involved in my poisoning.

"My Lady, I... My orders... one of the cameras is not working, and you have been out of sight..." I fix him with a glare that is not for him, but for Maven. I suppose he thought he wasn't watching me closely enough before Iris' attack.

"Look at me, Miranos." He does, confusion etched on his face. I raise my hand and put on a show of igniting a spark in my hand. The light is weak and sputters out almost immediately. I let my chest heave as If the act was taxing. "I can't even feel the cameras, let alone manipulate them." He gives a slight nod but doesn't move. "If you are going to stay and be a hindrance to my healing, could you at least draw me a bath?"

"Of course, my Lady." He ducks into the bathroom, visibly relieved to no longer be scrutinized. I gather up the little book and my clothes Before I close the bathroom door, I address the guard once more.

"You should have that camera looked at while I am in the bath." I close the door with a snap.

The hot water feels incredible on my weary muscles. They are sore and stiff from not using them. It hasn't been that long since I tried to relax and As I sink low in the water, I want to let my mind wander back to it—to the chilly river water, to strong and loving hands, and the stillness of the woods. I allow myself a short indulgence. I close my eyes and let myself submerge fully falling back into a not too distant memory. It fades as I come back up for air. I have work to do.

I thumb through the journal, I don't think it is the one that will help me prove what Maven and Elara did, but I thumb through it anyway; perhaps it will provide me with something else I can entries start right after I killed his mother and end just after his Wedding day. They detail in full the last time he captured me. Sprawled across the page in slightly smeared ink are confessions that I could never have imagined. A soul trapped in a place with no light or sense of which way might be up. A mind cut into pieces that scarcely connect, save for the raw anger and caustic hatred that drips from every word. It is a wonder he can manage civility at all. The pity I feel is new, but oh, does it burn.

I had thought that the depths of my self-loathing were a black chasm, but when compared to the hell he is trying to claw his way out of, it is merely a wading pool. The space around the burning in my chest is hollow. A bell could ring for years in that space from a single strike. A twinge of regret reverberates in there now; echoing around, making feel ashamed of my treatment of him. I drop the book on the tile with a dull thud and let myself slip under the rapidly chilling water. I scream, pushing all the air from my lungs in a violent stream of bubbles. When I break the surface again, my lungs burn from lack of oxygen. I scrub the water from my face with trembling hands.

I stare at my reflection as I get dressed. How could I not have known? My mind meanders through the signs and hints he has given me. I put the pieces together slowly pressing together seemingly unconnected off hand remarks and comments that change with this new context. I start to scold myself for not paying better attention but stop mid rebuke when my eyes land on the burn scars on my collar bone.

This. This is the very reason I have refused to let anyone heal this wound. This is what reminds me of what he is and what he did. The reasons do not change his actions. The reasons do not acquit him or the charges against him, but they just might stay his execution.

Before opening the door, I check to see if the camera has been fixed, it hasn't. I also take a moment to think about Tyton and the way he manipulates with such precision. I reach out again trying to figure out if there is anyone else in the room. It's no use, I have never been able to manipulate a living target without seeing them. Nor have I done it from this far away. I don't sense anything other than the wires and their various terminals, and I hear nothing the constant thrum of the current that runs through them. I tuck the journal inside my robe and open the door. The room is empty, but there are voices in the hall. They are not close enough to hear clearly, but it sounds like Maven.

I close my eyes and place my hand on the wall as if I am using it to support myself. I feed small amounts of energy into the grid. I trip the circuit for the wing making the only light in this wing the fading evening sunlight. I dash to the desk, replace the journal and return to where I was when the lights went out. As the door from the sitting room opens, I sway where I stand, catching myself at the last moment on the wall.

"Can I assume that you do not want my help?" The is a dull dryness n his voice that suggests he had a tedious day. I don't look up but shake my head. Maven crosses the room in a few steps and holds his hand out to me. I take it and let him guide me back toward the bed. "Do you want to tell me why you are playing with the power grid?" His grip tightens on my fingers. I try half-heartedly to pull away, in return, he tightens his grip again. He is suspicious of me.

"Maven, I'm sorry. I got dizzy, and I lost control. It was only for a moment, but I grabbed the wall for support, I must have..." I let myself trail off and sway again. Maven steadies me loosening his grip and settling back into a less defensive posture. Larissa Knocks and enters as I am settling back into the pillows.

"How are you feel—Your Majesty, Good Evening." He inclines his head in acknowledgment but says nothing. I look him over in the fading light. Tension presses down on him. The burning knot of pity in my chest pulses and flares.

"Larissa, could we do this tomorrow? I am really not feeling up to it tonight." The healer steps closer concern in her eyes.

"Have your symptoms escalated?"

"Just some dizziness and I am really tired." She places a cold hand on my arm.

"Your blood pressure is a little low. Rest, eat and I will check in on you in the morning. Good Night my lady, Your Majesty." The little blond woman retreats slowly, never really turning her back to the King. I have never seen her do that before. I wonder happened while I was unconscious. The lights come back on as a thick silence builds between Maven and me. He is looking out the window, lost in thought when I decide it is time to cut through it.

"Maven?" He turns to face me. I get the sense that I startled him out of deep thought. I motion for him to come sit near me, but he hesitates. "Please?" The hard line of his mouth softens into something that could be considered a smile with a little bit more coaxing, but he still hasn't moved from his place. I implore him again, a note of pleading coloring my tone now. "Please?" He relents with a quiet sigh and sits on the far edge of the bed. Still quiet. Still distant. "What's bothering you, Maven?"

"It is nothing you need concern yourself with."

"If it troubles you, I would hope you would confide in me. Unless you feel like you still can't trust me. In which case, feel free to continue being silent and withdrawn." As I speak the tone of my voice shifts to cynicism and annoyance causing him to raise an eyebrow at me. I turn away and cross my arms over my chest. Moments later, I feel the shift in weight as he moves toward me. His lips press against my cheek.

"I don't tr—" I turn quickly and kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I allow him to pull me closer.

"You haven't touched me in days." I don't have to think of Cal as I say it this time to make it convincing.

"I was ordered not to by the healer." The words are breathy against my ear.

"Were you also ordered to stay at least three feet away from me at all times, to not speak to me, and to not spend any time with me?" He pulls away. I have seen the look he wears before, except with eyes of liquid amber instead of blue ice. It is a look of mild surprise at having been called out for acting ridiculous and sorrow for having disappointed me. I pull out of his grasp and press it. "You asked me to let you try your hand at taking care of me; avoiding me is not the way to do that."

'Mare." I stop my thinly veiled tirade and look at him again. "I'm sorry." I don't know what to say. "Don't look so surprised."

"I don't recall you having ever apologized to me." The dark look that passes over his features is fleeting, but enough to concern me.

"Only once." He looks down, away from my face as though he is ashamed of the admission. "I've never apologized to anyone else, and if I have, assume it was insincere." He meets my eye again, face full of sadness. "I made an error in judgment after you chastised me for worrying about you and I want your forgiveness."

"Excuse me?" He puts a finger to my lips.

"Ah Ah don't press it, my darling. Just accept it and allow me to make amends." He has returned to his regular confident airs.

"Fine, tell me what has been going on during my reoperation." I am back on the offensive after having been caught off guard by his candor.

"No one has been executed if that is what you are asking." There is a bitter edge to the words.

"No, I am asking you to tell me what is going on that has you so high strung. I'm asking you to give me your confidence and consider letting me be your friend, your partner instead of your property." There is a quiet knock at the door; Maven bristles at the intrusion. I lay a hand on his arm to steady him. "You may come in." The woman in charge of keeping Maven's schedule, whose name I cannot remember, steps just inside the door. She has a small voice for a tall woman and looks as though she might snap in half if the wind blows too hard.

"Pardon the interruption Majesty, your dinner meeting Is scheduled to start in ten minutes." When he speaks, he is calm. I feel a hint of pride at being a tempering influence over him.

"Cancel it. I am retiring for the evening. Tell Captain Arven, that we are not to be disturbed. You're dismissed." As soon as the door closes again, He refocuses his full attention on me. "Mare, I don't think now is the—"

"Where is Iris?" I drop all pretense of coyness. I want answers, and if Maven is interested in keeping me happy, he will answer my questions.

"Sequestered." Resignation, just what I wanted.

"And the handmaid that had been tending me? The one you wanted to teach a lesson to. I assume you have tortured—"

"She is in the cells, awaiting trial. I haven't touched her." Mavens tone shifts again. I don't bother identifying what he might be feeling. There is no sense in doing so until I have pushed him too far.

"Trial for what?"

"Collusion, aiding and abetting, treason."

"Nothing she is actually guilty of, what a shock." I roll my eyes as I turn away from him.

"She delivered the poison." He is growing exasperated.

"And if she didn't know? If she is innocent? Will you make her another victim for her involuntary involvement?" The pitch of my voice is too high, but I disregard it. I put Kyra in danger, I have to get her out of it. I have to protect her from Maven.

"The guards are investigating your poisoning. If she is innocent, she will be released back to her family." He reaches out and touches my arm. He wants me to look at him but doesn't want to force me to do so. I resist him.

"What about the others?" My voice has returned to its normal pitch but still sounds wrong in my ears. Still offensive with a sharp edge to it. I can feel his tension, and I am sure I am its cause.

"They will be treated accordingly." He drops his voice. "I took you advice. I have been still, patient, lenient even." I turn to look at him. A weak smile on his lips. "I also assumed you would want to be involved; Trials will not be held until you are well enough to attend." The silence between us is warm, almost soothing. If I didn't know him so well, I would think he was looking for praise. But in the dying light, he looks little more than concerned about keeping me calm. I glance away unsettled by the amount of affection held within those few moments. I fight the urge to retreat into myself and pull away from his warmth. Instead, I move closer; laying my head on his shoulder. His cheek rests against my still damp hair; my reciprocated affection seemingly melting his tension.

"And Iris?" My voice is merely a whisper now. There is no fight left in either of us.

"You needn't worry about her." The tips of his fingers glide absently over my forearm. The touch is light, almost nothing against my skin. The gentility of it is astounding when compared to what I read this evening.

"Bullshit. She poisoned me." He stiffens for a moment, before pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"She has been silenced and is well guarded. She is not a threat to you right now." I shrug.

"Maybe, but she is a threat to you. I was also trapped in silent stone and guarded. That didn't stop a small subset of The Scarlett Guard from breaking me out. The entire Lakeland army may be at your gates when they learn that you are holding Iris" I am trying to reconcile The Maven that holds me at this moment and the Maven that is scrawled in the pages of those books.

"All communication to the Lakelands is being monitored. Nothing of import goes out without my knowledge." I cock my head so that I can look up at him.

"And what about what went out before she poisoned me?" He considers me for a moment and shrugs it off. "Minimizing this will not make it any less inevitable. You didn't see it coming the last time; I did."

"I will not let it happen again. No one will take you from me; that is, other than you." The flicker of fierceness colors his words. It fans that burning spot in my chest into a ball that burns with bright blue fire.

"Me?"

"Yes, you are free to leave whenever you choose." The slight waver in his voice betrays his confidence and adds to the sincerity of his words.

"But the contract."

"It does little more than declare you my legal consort."

"What is the little more?" He hesitates. "Maven, just tell me. I couldn't possibly be any angrier with you about this contract than I already am."

"It prevents you from being with anyone other than me without committing treason and allows me to claim any child you may conceive as mine and legitimate, should I choose to do so." It takes everything inside me not to react. "It also only binds you for one year. In one year, I will allow you to renegotiate your contract. In the meantime, it doesn't bind you to this place or my will. You can come and go as you please as soon as you are able." I feel him brace for my response.

"Okay."

"That's all? No yelling, no fighting?" He almost sounds disappointed.

"No."

"Why not?"

"There is nothing to yell or fight about. The decision was made for me, and there is nothing that can be done about it now. I can declare it a forgery and be executed. Or I can accept it and try to let it go. I do still have a choice in this. I choose me."


	13. Trials

**Author's Note:**

 **Welcome back, Kids!**

 **There are no hard triggers in this section. The standard warning for sexual content and language applies.**

 **I hope to have the next chapter up in a few days.**

 **I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Happy Reading!**

 **Mare's POV**

The afternoon overcast, making the light thin and watery. I sit in the window seat In Maven's personal Library with the large windows thrown wide open. Under any other circumstances, I would feel almost at peace here. The Library itself makes me think of Julian. My heart aches. I know that both He and Sarah are safe in Piedmont, but still, I miss them and my family. Mostly, I miss Cal. More than my sister, my brothers, I miss him.

Since I argued my way out of confinement in the King's Rooms, I have been growing bolder. My deadline is fast approaching, and I cannot afford to be cautious. I let myself into and out of every room except his office with Clarisse, or whoever has been tasked with watching my every move and Dash in toe.

Maven never stops me or intervenes; I have to wonder if he is allowing me to test his boundaries, or waiting for me to misstep and show my hand. I pull my knees up and rest a Large and heavy book on m them so that it covers my face as I whisper.

"Is everything in place?" The answer comes from somewhere off to my right.

"Yes."

"Good. Dash, do you think she will do it?"

"I don't know, Mare. She is looking haggard and desperate, but I don't know if it is enough." Neither of us knows her well enough to guess at her motivations. Whatever it is, it isn't love; not for Norta or its King anyway. It has to be a coup by the Lakelands.

"I guess we will find out." I toss the law book aside and get up. I stride out of the library quickly. I am late. Two guards escort me through the Palace to the Throne Room. I had hoped that Maven would change his mind about holding the hearing in that dreadful place.; that he would spare us both those painful memories. My faith has again been misplaced.

* * *

 **Maven's POV**

I watch Mare as enters. I had her brought in from the far side of the room escorted by two guards to show her off to the court. She is dressed only in my colors; she wears royal jewelry—head high, shoulders back, every inch The Queen she should be. However, there is something different about her. I cannot quite put my finger on it, but the way she carries herself has changed. It almost seems predatory. It makes her all the more attractive. She takes her seat. Clarisse takes her place beside her.

"You're late." She gives me a withering glare.

"My apologies, Your Majesty. It will not happen again." Yes, it will. She enjoys defying me as much as I enjoy watching her do it. The furious thrill arouses my passion for her.

"Where Have you been?" I already know the answer, but I give her the opportunity to lie to me anyway.

"Your personal Library." The truth. I meet her eyes. They are still filled with life and fire from our argument. When she stormed out, I began to question whether she would even be present for the start of Iris' trial.

"We will discuss this later." I turn to address the hall. "Bring her in." A side door is thrown open, and the Queen is pushed roughly through the door. There is a collective gasp from the courtiers. She is dressed only in Cygnet Colors and a defiant smirk. She has no plans to defend her station as my wife, just as Queen of Norta and Princess of the Lakelands.

"I invoke the rite of Bloodtrial." I have not called the room to order to begin the trial as Iris' voice echoes through the chamber. The hum of conversation dies in an instant. All eyes turn to regard Iris. I fix my gaze on her. What could she possibly gain from insisting on Bloodtrial; a rite that has not been invoked by a sitting Queen or a consort for a least a century?

"And why would I agree to that when I have everything I need to execute you outright?" I glance around the chamber. As I do, I have to push back hard at the tumultuous memories it evokes. It is in this room that I stood idly by as my mother used my brother to kill my father. The phantom echoes of Mare's screams ring in my ears. I rest my temple against my fingers and regard my Queen with a bored expression.

"It is my right as Queen to defend my life." The venom in her voice is not what I expected, nor is it directed at me. I follow the line of her gaze to the woman sitting to my left. Mare is the picture of composure, showing no sign of a reaction. I would have thought Mare would be incensed at the idea of being challenged to a fight to the death by the woman that poisoned her.

"It is my duty as King to ensure justice is served. And my pleasure to deny you your request." The Queen looks drawn and pale after two weeks of confinement. She does not wear the silent stone as well as Mare did. It is true that Mare also suffered, and her suffering compounded with every exposure, but she wore it with grace and dignity—with fire. Iris barely stands under its weight. Her usually calculating grey eyes look erratic on the verge of hysterical. She is little more than a caged animal; which makes her incredibly dangerous. Her brown sugar skin has a sickly blueish-grey hue. The Reds had done a fair job of making her look like she was not suffering, but I can see it. I take satisfaction in knowing that she will break.

"I accept your challenge." Mare's voice rings out like a bell in the silent chamber; the nobles immediately start to chatter. The noise grates on my already frayed nerves. I turn my head to really look at her. The only clue to how angry she actually is lies in her eyes. The rich, warm brown boils under the surface. She meets me with defiance, and I am surprised to see that my fury is dwarfed by hers. I feel a small hint of pride. I turn back to the crowd.

"Silence!" The host of voices drops to just above a murmur. "Take her back to her rooms, and everyone else, get out." I wait for the shuffle of one hundred feet to fade. I rise and step down from the dais. "I said OUT!" The heat crackles around mare as she dispels it, but the guards trip over themselves to get away from it. She doesn't take her eyes off me. Her rage knows no temperance. "I suppose it is rather poetic that in the place where I first betrayed you, you aspire to take away the one thing I admit to wanting." I am leaving over her, hands gripping her wrists. I realize my mistake the moment her heels make contact with my abdomen. The shock isn't as severe as I anticipated—she held back. I stumble backward of the platform and hit the marble floor hard. I feel the breath leave my body.

"Do not do that again." She stands over me in a halo of purple light. She radiates strength and power. I have never wanted her more. I make no move to stand; instead, I rest my head on the floor and stare up at the ceiling. "You know that I can't stand it." I nod. "Would you like to continue your raving, or are you finished?" I gesture for her to continue. "This is not about you; it is not about our argument, it is about me getting justice for my own attempted murder."

"She has already tried to kill you, why even give her the opportunity to try again?" She still hates me, I can hear it in her voice. Two weeks of playing house has done nothing to help me win her over.

"Because she will fail." She holds her hand out to me. I bat It away, my pride not allowing for the woman that just took me down to help me up. She scowls at me.

"People with nothing to lose are dangerous." I brush myself off, refusing to meet her eye. Since she came back, I spend more time confused and battling myself than I ever had before. My thoughts used to clear, concise, and calculated; now I spend my time second-guessing my choices and wondering how she will react to my every decision.

"And those of us with everything to lose are motivated." I look at her. For just a moment, I allow myself the small indulgence that she might mean me. It is the same fleeting hope that I felt just before my wedding when she started breaking things. I dismiss it.

"Be careful. You are not at full strength yet." I have been watching her closely. She is stronger than she is letting on, but still, Mare is not yet what she was.

"Well, I can only assume that when I face her in the arena for her treason, it will be just like the last time you held an execution there. Except, this time, I will not be the one being silenced." She folds her arms across her chest and levels her gaze at me.

"I can't do that." Her eyes flash. "She is the Queen and still backed by the Lakelands. Silencing her during Bloodtrial would be inviting the new Lakeland Queen to declare war. I shouldn't have to remind you what the last war cost your people." She inhales deeply and turns away.

"I see that _anything to protect me_ has its limits." She turns back. "May I be excused, Your Majesty?" The jab is low, even for her. I grab her by the waist.

"You could have said nothing and trusted that I would take care of it, of you." I resist the urge to coddle her. She deserves affection, but She doesn't need me to hold her hand. Moreover, she would not let me if I tried.

"No, I couldn't have." Her voice is low.

"Because you don't trust me—" It takes effort to keep the snarl off my tongue. Is it fair? No. Neither of us trusts the other, nor will we ever be able to without doubts.

"Because this way, you cannot be implicated; it will be legal, and your hands will remain clean." At this moment, everything about her is soft. I haven't seen this in her since the night I found her crying on a balcony just after Queenstrial. That encounter had confused me just as much as every encounter we have had since returned to me. "Had Iris not invoked the rite of Bloodtrial, I would have."

"Is that what you have been doing in my Library all week? Researching?" I pull one of the chamber doors open and step out into the hall. Mare follows. I offer her my arm, but she refuses, keeping even pace with me even though she denied my escort. The guards trail us at a respectful distance. She says nothing. I turn on her, gripping both her forearms. "Answer me."

"Yes." It is more a yelp than answer. My grip is strong.

"Yes?" I am goading her. Predator and prey is the only game we are good at; though lately, it is difficult to tell which of us is the hunter and which is the hunted.

"Yes, Your Majesty." She pushes the words out through gritted teeth, never breaking eye-contact. She is brazen today. "I was researching the law." She doesn't move or try to break my hold on her; she knows that she has not regained enough dexterity to get away from me and brute strength is not a viable option. That leaves only a mind game. "Maven, you are hurting me." It is a whisper. She knows better than to address me like that in public.

"Well then, let's take a stroll to the Library." I let go of one arm and pull her through the corridors to the library. I shove her through the doors and pull them closed before the guards can follow. I lock them with a heavy iron key. "Why don't you show me what you have been reading, my dear?"

"I left it over there, by the open window." She runs her hands over her upper arms. Angry red marks shine like a beacon. _Had I burned her?_ I didn't think I had been that hot. She turns away when she realizes what I am looking at. She strides around the long mahogany table and picks up the thick leather-bound book, whipping it around so that it slides across the table when it lands. Had she put any real force behind it, it would have done more than crash into the wood with a resounding thud. "There, Happy now, Your Majesty" There is disdain dripping from every syllable.

"Corso's Compendium Volume four. Impressive." I open the book to the marked pages, quickly skimming the content. I glance up at her. She is starring out the window at the Spiral Gardens. The red marks are starting to bruise around the edges. I had burned her, and the wound on her right arm is deep. I slam my fist down on the table, startling her out of her quiet moment. It isn't her that I am angry with, It is myself. I had harmed her without the intent to do so. I wanted her shaken so she would slip up, say something that would give her plans away; instead, I scarred her yet again.

"You still don't believe me." She is incredulous. "I have done nothing to cross you since I arrived just as I promised, and still you suspect and accuse me every chance that presents itself." Her voice continues to rise in volume the longer her tirade continues. "I have done everything you have demanded of me, I am even trying to—" She stops, closing her mouth abruptly and putting a hand over it.

"You are trying to what, Mare?" The quietness of the question hangs in the empty room. I come around the end of the table, but leave some semblance of space between us. I give her a moment the gently prod again. "What are you trying to do?"

"I." She bites down on her lip and looks back out the window.

"Mare?" She meets my questioning stare. I have never wanted an answer more than I want this one.

"I am trying to love you again. But every time I take a step closer you shove me back into place." She covers the handprints on her arms, but her hands are smaller than mine; and so, they are framed in an aura of violence. I seethe, inwardly ashamed of my actions and their consequences. She perches on the edge of the window seat. I want to join her, to beg her to give me a chance to make it up to her, but I cannot make my feet move. She has said something to the same effect before, and just like then it squeezes at my heart. "The truth hurts, doesn't it?" I failed to notice her studying me; a careless oversight—that has been happening a lot more as of late. I look at her and start to respond, but she beats me to it. "Finding out that the only thing preventing you from being loved is yourself, is just about as fun as drowning. That's pretty much what it feels like too; not knowing how to love, or reciprocate the love you are given." I feel the words reverberate in my chest. Maven might be the only person more acquainted with this feeling that I am.

"Stop." There is no authority or command behind it; it sounds almost pleading. But she heeds my request. She gives me space to sort through the revelation she has handed me. Neither of us moves for longer than I know. Even though I stare at my hands—turning them over, remembering every time I have used them to harm or betray her and how she responded each time—I don't notice when her fingers wrap around mine. I don't notice her until she brushes a curl off my forehead. "Mare, I—"

"Shhh. Don't say anything." I could melt into her touch and her voice. "If I asked you for something, would you deny me?" There it is; she pushed too quickly. I say nothing, expecting her to lay her cards out for me to see. "Take me away from here."

"What?" I could not have foreseen this. I am at a loss.

"I hate it here. We could never know each other here." Every time she speaks, I feel a little more of her press against me.

"Where would you like to go?" I put an arm around her and to my astonishment, she leans into it.

"Anywhere that you don't have to be the King, and I don't have to be your mistress." I start to feel eerily aware of my heartbeat as it begins to climb.

"Are you certain that you want to go through with the rite of Bloodtrial?" I press my face into her sleek brown hair. The magnolias soothe me, but I wish The handmaid that does her hair would leave it down.

"Yes, this way, you are not culpable for her death. She broke the law and invoked her right as Queen. The Lakeland Queen cannot hold you responsible under our law or theirs. I just want to protect you." I want to believe her; she sounds so sincere.

"I will make the arrangements." I glance at the clock over the mantle. "You are late for your appointment with the healer." She doesn't move.

"I think she can wait twenty minutes or so..." She looks up at me suggestively. I suppress a laugh. I would let her tempt me were I not terrified of putting her in a position to be hurt before she is healthy again.

"Come to my office after your appointment. I will have everything ready by then." I kiss her hair and push her away carefully. "Go."

"Yes, Your Majesty." For the first time today, the title takes a turn from maliciously mocking, to playful. I have to find a way to make her happy.

* * *

 **Mare's POV**

When I exit the library, Clarisse falls into step just behind me. I look over my shoulder at her and smile.

"Yes, My Lady? Do you need something?" She sounds cheery.

"No, how are you?" I want to know I want to be friendly and remembered for my kindness as well as my indiscretions.

"I am well, My Lady. Thank you." I beckon her forward to walk with me as an equal. She does it without hesitation.

"May I ask you a personal question?" I look at her face as I ask. She is beautiful when not in her full uniform. I envy her auburn hair and hazel eyes.

"Of course, My Lady." She even smiles.

"Are you well treated, by the King, I mean?" She hesitates; I understand. After all, her answer could be considered treason. "This is just between us, I promise." I stop and lay my hand on her arm.

"He can be abrasive, but I am better treated than most. And I believe I have you to thank for that, My Lady." She meets my eye.

"How so?" I have never been in a position to vouch for her, how could I be to thank for her treatment?

"The sentinels that guard you, My Lady, are the most rigorously trained Kingsguard unit. They are given more motivations than fear." There is a suggestive tone to her otherwise professional demeanor.

"Thank you, Clarisse. Really, Thank you." I squeeze her arm before I let go.

"It is my pleasure, My Lady." She gives me a little bow. I motion for her to stand up. I start towards the infirmary again.

"I have just one more request; could you go to my rooms and get me something to change into? I am going to see the King after my appointment; I want to look nice for him." I say it a little sheepishly. I don't think anyone suspects me of genuinely caring what Maven thinks of me.

"My Lady, I would not know what to choose." She stumbles a little bit over her words. I smile and nod.

"Has the handmaid been released, the one who was attending me?" I try to be as nonchalant about gathering information about Kyra as possible.

"Yes, she was released last night." I feel relief spread through me.

"Is she still in the palace?"

"I believe so."

"Perhaps ask for her assistance. And send the Jeweler to retrieve these, please?" I indicate all the jewelry that Maven loves for me to wear.

"Of course, My Lady." She bows herself away as another guard takes up his position next to the infirmary door. I go inside.

"You're Late." Larissa sounds annoyed.

"I'm never late; I show up exactly when I intend to." The infirmary is one of the few places in the Palace that isn't under constant surveillance. I am free to speak to Larissa in here. Her eyes fall on my burned and battered arms. She sighs and touches them each in turn.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" I sit on my regular bed and swing my feet while I think about it.

"No." She narrows her eyes at me. I start to take off my jewelry, and Larissa sets a gown on the end of the bed.

"How is your morning sickness?"

"Practically non-existent thanks to whatever you have been giving me." I drink some kind of herbal tea every morning that keeps my nausea and the vomiting at bay. I am grateful for it. Morning sickness would be a dead giveaway for my condition, and with the paternity clause in my consort's contract, it is now more dangerous than ever for Maven to find out that I am carrying Cal's child.

"Still avoiding citrus?"

"Yes." Recently, I find both the smell and the taste repulsive.

"Anything else?" She ties the back of the gown.

"I want to—" I stop short. I don't want to say it out loud.

"You want to what?" She starts her exam.

"Have a lot of sex, all the time. Oh, and crying will become an issue soon."

"Both of those things are normal. How about everything else? Anything you need to talk about?" I don't need to think it over; the answer is a resounding yes. I spend most of my time screaming on the inside and pushing down everything I am feeling to keep my mission from disintegrating before my eyes. But, instead of letting everything out, I hide.

"Now that I am never without a watchful eye, it is kinda hard to do anything about it.'

"But, you want to." It isn't a question.

"But I can't, so problem solved, right?"

"You'll find ways. Talk to me." The concern in her voice is what tips the scales of my emotions.

"I learned a few things that changed how I feel and coping is not a skill that I have." She nods but says nothing. She knows that I am being intentionally vague and will not press me to clarify. "I don't know if I can keep doing this. I miss my family. I miss him." Tears roll down my cheeks freely and silently. "Maybe I sacrificed too much. I'm lost now."

She lets me cry until there is a knock at the door. We both scramble to cover me and my tears. When Larissa opens the door a small, mousy man with gray hair and glasses stands there wringing his hands, with his shoulders hunched forward; the jeweler. He strides in confidently when he sees the priceless trinkets from Maven's family collection. I start to thank him, but he ignores me. What a strange little man. When he leaves Kyra comes in. I have to stifle my happiness at seeing her.

"Everything looks good, My Lady. You can get dressed." She closes her charts and goes into his office.

"Kyra, I am glad you are alright. Did he hurt you?" I resist the urge to hug her. Larissa told me that my hormones would be all over the place, but this seems extreme.

"I am fine, My Lady. I believe these are the items you requested. Will you need further assistance?" I cannot tell if she is angry with me or putting on a show.

"Only if you don't mind taking my hair down. We can talk here." She looks at me for a long moment before she sets the basket down on the bed. She pulls a simple low-cut red dress with a heart-shaped neckline and a full skirt that hangs to just above my knees. When I step into it, she zips it and ties the straps behind my neck. I sit down on the edge of the bed, and she starts to hunt for the ten pounds of pins that hold my hair in place.

"I see Her Majesty; Queen Iris didn't manage to kill you after all." Her tone is the familiar flat cynical drawl I have come to know and appreciate.

"I guess not." I fidget with the edge of the sheet.

"How did Dash do?" I wonder how well they know each other; if they manage to be friends outside of their rebellion.

"Ask him yourself." I shrug.

"I feel like I have been doing an exemplary job if I do say so myself." He is somewhere behind me, probably shoved in a corner trying not to get bumped into.

"We are taking a little trip to The King's privet office tonight."

"I understand why you asked for something other than formalwear." She pulls the last few pins out, and all my hair falls in loose waves around my shoulders. She comes around to stand in front of me. "He won't be able to resist you."

"Thank you, Kyra. For everything." I give her a meaningful look. She waves it off. When the door to Larissa's office opens, her shoulders immediately drop, and she looks at the floor. She gathers up all the pins and my discarded clothing and leaves.

"You are clear of toxins, and all the damage is healed, with the exception of your pregnancy you are back to normal." She smiles broadly.

"Really?" The skepticism in genuine, my muscles are tired all the time.

"Yeah, Why? Do you not feel like everything is healed?" I feel a sharp cold sensation in my arm as the healer reaches out and touches me. The ache goes away.

"I just don't feel like I am at full strength." She nods.

"That is most likely the baby."

"Oh. Will you be able to tell me it's gender?" I do my best not to think about my fetus and the danger it is in, but when I am alone with my thoughts in the middle of the night, I can't help but spin fantasies about a life far away from everything with a healthy baby. I couldn't keep calling the baby it, even in my head, so for now, the baby is peanut.

"Does this mean that you have made a decision." I look down and shake my head. "Knowing the sex might make that decision harder, are you sure you want to know?" I move my hand low over my abdomen.

"Yes." My voice trembles a little. I guess I have made my decision. "Please, Larissa."

"It's a boy." She heads back into her office. _A boy, a little Prince._ The breath I was holding shakes as I release it.

A few minutes later, I am standing outside an ornately carved wooden door. The swirling patterns look like flames. Four guards surround me. I knock quietly. Madam schedule keeper ushers me in as she leaves. Maven is adding his signature to a small stack of documents.

"Give me just a moment, my—" He glances up at me quickly, but does a double take, and fixes his gaze on me. Not on my body, but my face. There is a moment when I look at him and truly believe that he is in love with me. "Mare, you look—" My heart beats a little too quickly with anticipation. He drops his pen as he stands, leaving a smear of black ink across whatever he had been working on.

"Do you like it?" I don't meet his gaze. Instead, I look at the floor, counting the planks in the parquet.

"Yes." His breathlessness makes me look up. His eyes burn, a bright blue flame that draws me into its depths. I don't want to look away; I can't look away. "Come here." I wait for him to hold his hand out to me, to ask for it before I move. When I get close enough, he guides me in to stand in front of him with his hands resting on my hips. He pulls my hair to one side exposing my neck. His chest presses against my back when he leans forward to point things out. "These are the articles of Bloodtrial. His lips brush the curve of my neck as he speaks. "I want you to read them carefully before you sign them." I make a small noise when he actually kisses me. "And this one is a decree for the protection of your Newbloods. I would like your opinion and input." A shock and a shiver when he moves up my neck.

"What's this one? The one I made you ruin?" I lean back into him. He brushes a kiss against my cheek.

"It is the first draft of a marriage contract." I shift away from my amorous feelings and try to pull out of his grasp. He lets me go without a fight. "It is for Lord Osanos' Only daughter. He requested that I look it over."

"Oh." I avoid his gaze, ashamed that I had assumed the worst of him unprovoked. I look at all the banners entwined with Red and Black that hang from the ceiling.

"Those banners are The Queens of Norta." I am unsurprised that there is one missing, Yellow and Gold—House Jacos. What does surprise me, is that Cygnet is missing as well.

"You missed one." He looks up. I wonder for a moment if he knows which one I am thinking about. "Iris, her banner isn't up there." He draws me back into his embrace.

"She doesn't deserve it." When he looks back at me, He is almost smiling. "Come with me." He laces his fingers through mine and leads me to the door. I wait for him to open it.

"Maven?" he turns back. Dash brushes against my arm as he enters the office. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise, my dearest."

He guides me through the halls and corridors at a quick pace. My mind wanders back to the days following Queenstrial, To the night he lead me through the dark corridors at the Hall of the Sun to Cal, so that he could take me home. Tonight, he draws me out to a garden at the far edge of the Palace estate. Here, the retaining wall is made of rough-hewn cobbled stone and is low enough to hear the constant lazy babble of the Capitol River. The sun is low in the sky, setting fire to the clouds. He lets go of my hand and hops the garden gate. When he reaches out to lift me over, I hand him my shoes and jump it myself.

"Is this the one place in the kingdom you have no key for?" When I look up at him, an amused smirk turns up one corner of his mouth.

"The lock is rusted shut, and no one comes out here except me, so no key needed." I entwine my fingers with his and pull him deeper into the garden. I find it satisfying to watch a Sovereign carry my shoes.

"Where are we going?" I turn to him and shrug.

"I don't know; this is your secret garden. Where should we go?"

"Into, the willow tree grove."

It is darker inside the grove—already twilight. I shiver. Maven lights a fire in the stone ringed pit. It illuminates the grove and keeps the chill at bay. I stare up at the sky. When I come back to the ground, I find him lounged on a blanket, propped up on one side by his elbow. I sit near him, with the skirt of my dress fanned out covering my legs.

"Maven, what is this place?"

"It is what you asked me for; a place where I don't have to be the King and you don't have to be my mistress." I look him over; it seems as though all of his guards are down. "I come out here when I can't stand it in there any longer."

"How long have you been doing this?"

"I found it after I came home from my first trip to the front. No one ever finds me out here." It only takes me a moment to connect the scattered pieces.

"Why give up your sanctuary?" I keep my voice subdued.

"Tonight, you need it more than I do." I move, pressing him back so that his hair mingles with the grass, straddling his hips entreating him to find pleasure in me. I lean forward and run my fingers through his hair. His hands never stray from the safest parts of my body. His impersonation of a gentleman is impressive, especially when trapped beneath a not so gentle lady. "How did your appointment with the healer go?" I study him for a moment trying to decide if he is curious or suspicious.

"Lady Skonos says I am healed, and there will be no lasting damage. She wants to see me occasionally to make sure I am rebuilding my strength, though." He seems satisfied with my answer; he doesn't press any further which makes me suspicious of his motives. "Is there anything else you want to know?" He says nothing. I wait for a few beats, twisting an errant curl around my finger. "What are you thinking about?"

"How devastated I would be if anything happened to you—if anything else happened to you." I freeze, unsure of how to respond. "I don't know what I would be capable of if I didn't have you." He watches my face for signs of reactions. I can be good at hiding my emotions when I choose to, but tonight I make them very apparent. I let my fear float to the surface. I know exactly what he is capable of when there is nothing there to temper his impulses. "I hate it when you look at me like that; like you are afraid of me."

"I am afraid of you. I'm terrified of the things you've done, the things you might do, the things you are still doing but aren't telling me about." I don't break eye contact. I want to make him uneasy. The juxtaposition of our intimate position and the confession of my fear does precisely that. He squirms slightly beneath me.

"Mare, My darling. Why don't you just tell what you are angling for." There is no accusation, no malice, only resignation. He would tell me almost anything right now if I asked. I should insist that he tell me where the Newbloods he granted asylum to are being held, but I have confidence that Dash will find what he needs in The King's office. If he doesn't, I'm sure a new opportunity will present itself soon enough.

"Nothing, I am just being honest with you. You brought me into your sanctuary, showed trust in me, the least I could give you in return is my absolute honesty and undivided attention." I shiver. Night has settled in around us, and the late Summer air has a chill to it. Heat pulses against my bare shoulders.

"I brought you out here for starlit dinner, but it seems that you may have something else on your mind." I had disentangled my fingers from his hair a while ago; I have been playing with the buttons of his shirt since. When I look down, a good portion of his chest is exposed. I lay my cheek against the now familiar skin.

"Are you saying that you are not thinking about it?" I feel a tug at one of the tails of the bow that secures my straps. I smirk but don't sit up.

"I have been thinking about how you feel every time I close my eyes for two weeks, and imagining it longer than you know." His hands glide over my pristine thighs, getting close to but never actually touching anywhere that would give away my arousal. I find it infuriating.

"And What does it feel like?" The muscles of his chest contract as I blow cool air over the spot I just kissed. I push up against him making sure that there is friction at every place my body touches his. I am on a mission to encourage his excitement. I start at the base of his neck and slowly work up to spot behind his ear that causes him to tense and gasp. He is hard but still won't touch me.

"Everything I have ever wanted." The tips of Maven's fingers continually flex and dig into my thighs as I repeatedly exploit his weakness. His breath comes in shallow, ragged pants.

"Do you want me?" I run my tongue along the edge of his ear.

"Yes, my Queen, but not like this." Maven releases my thighs and instead grips my shoulders. He lifts me with him until we are sitting upright. He sweeps the hair back away from my face and kisses me as though it is the last time he will ever do so. There is no force or obsession behind it, no desperation to taint it, no untamed desire driving him to a frenzy. He takes his time with the zipper of my dress. When there are no more teeth left to release, he pulls it off over my head. I wear nothing beneath it and shiver in the cold again. He buries his face in my chest. His forehead rests against my sternum, his breath hot on my skin. He runs his fingers over my legs silently asking me to wrap them around him; I do as he asks. He wraps his arms around me and rises onto his knees and lays me down in the circle of firelight. The inferno in the fire pit burns blue. Keeping me warm in the night air. When he releases me and moves away from me to remove his shirt, I sit up to help. "Lay back, let me look at you." I let my fingers trail down my body to touch myself while he strips away his clothes. A genuine smile stains his lips as he watches me in the white light. "Stop that."

"Why?" My voice is small. He is clearly enjoying the show; I don't understand why he would want me to stop.

"Because I asked nicely." His voice is smoke; thin and ethereal. I again submit to him. I raise my arms over my head and stretch, arching my back as I do. Maven shakes his head, his smile never leaving his lips. "Your seductions will not dissuade me from expressing the depth of my love for you." It takes a moment for me to work through the stunned shock his statement left in its wake. When I do, He is leaning over me, waiting. "What were you thinking about?" His fingertips barely graze the skin around my ribs.

"I was putting all the pieces together." He looks down at me, still smiling. "You heard me this afternoon."

"Every word." Maven caresses my cheek. " Are you ready?"

"Yes."


	14. Blood Rite

**Author's Note:**

 **Hey, Y'all! We are getting close to the end. I don't know how I feel about it yet.**

 **Watch for gratuitous violence, Partner Violence, and self-harm.**

 **I'll put a trigger warning in the text should you choose to skip the self-harm.**

 **If you are struggling with these thoughts, reach out.**

 **Happy Reading!**

 **Mare's POV**

The morning of Bloodtrial dawns bright but chilly. I push myself out of maven's grasp without waking him. I have been lying awake since sunrise, and the possibility of going back to sleep is nowhere in sight, I may as well do something useful with my time. I want to run; no, I need to run. When I step outside, I want to take off and give no thought to anything that has happened or will happen. Instead, I heed the advice of a voice that sounds suspiciously like Cal in the back of my mind telling me to stretch and watch my speed, so I don't wear myself out too quickly. I smile to myself as go through everything he taught me. I even hear his corrections when I know I am doing a poor job. A complete complement of Kingsguard in full regalia, masks and all, watches me from nearby.

"If you are planning on coming along for my run, you should probably stretch." Not a single guard moves. "Suit yourselves." They are going to regret it later. I start them off at a nice, easy pace, but by mile three, I have sped up enough that some of the guys in the back are looking a little rough around the edges. I slow to a jog and turn to run backward calling out to the guards. "All right, warm up is over, Now for the real run." I turn back around and take off at a sprint. I put a little bit of distance between them and I before I break into a full run. I lead them on a two-mile chase through the maze of gardens and outbuildings. I have no idea where I am going, I just run.

The only guardsman that manages to keep up with me is a swift. A swift that I manage to lose when I duck into the garages unexpectedly. I jog through the deserted halls until I make it back to a section of the palace I am familiar with and wander slowly back to my own rooms, where I left Maven this morning. I can hear him yelling at his guard captain before I even open the outer doors.

"Sire, we have teams sweeping the grounds and the Palace, we will find her." There is fear in his voice; its shadowed by natural arrogance, but it is there.

"And what shall I do with you when you don't find her, Captain Nornus?" He is the swift that I evaded when I came back inside. I let the silence hang in the air for several long seconds, but decide to intervene when I the doorknob heats up in my hand. The Captain should not be punished for this. I open the doors to blistering heat. Maven is too focused on the quaking guardsman in front of him to notice me. He is dressed in this military dress uniform, which he only wears for official state functions. The tip of his ceremonial sword is red hot and scratches at Captain Nornus' throat. Blisters rise on his skin before the metal even makes contact with it. The short coarse hairs of the captain's beard curl in on themselves as though retreating from the superheated sword point, the smell of burnt hair singes the inside of my nose. The look on Maven's face is pure malice, he wants to kill this man, and he wants it to be slow and painful.

In the same moment that I open my mouth to stop him, the point of Maven's sword slices across the guardsman's neck. I cry out. Maven drops the sword. The clatter it makes as it hits the floor echoes in the silence. The floor is scorched and smokes around the edge of the blade. Maven crosses the room to take me in his arms, but I doge his advance and shove him away to care for the wounded Captain. He has dropped to his knees and holds his throat coughing and gasping. I pry his hand away to examine the carnage. There is no blood, the wound was cauterized in the same instant it was opened. The cut itself is shallow, but the burns are severe. The edges are black, and the hair of his short beard has melted and fuzzed into a solid mass. Blisters pimple the skin around the cut. They burst and bleed as he breathes.

I stand, pulling Captain Nornus up with me and lead him out into the corridor. The two guards that sand posted outside my bedroom take the choking Captain from me and I lead them on the long trek to the infirmary in a stone-faced hush. I focus on the sound of boots on the overly polished floors. If I allow my mind to wander, anger and indignation will overtake me. When I am satisfied that Captain Nornus will survive, I return to my rooms. The sword has been removed, but Maven kneels next to the scorch mark running his fingers over it.

"What the Hell was that?" My voice is quiet and dark—feral

"That is what happens when you leave me." Maven looks up at and answers as though it is the most obvious thing in the world.

"I thought I was free to leave whenever I saw fit?" I take on a defensive posture. I know he won't intentionally hurt me, but over the last several days; since our night together in the willow grove, he has been unpredictable at best. I fear that I have pushed him too far.

"I didn't think I needed to explain that eluding eight guards and allowing me to believe that you had been taken from me yet again, is not part of the arrangement." I do not like the eerie calm that he exudes. It unsettles me.

"The arrangement that I never agreed to?" I watch him struggle to keep his anger in check.

"You agreed to it when you chose not to contest it." He is starting to lose his edge. It doesn't feel like he wants to fight. What I mistook for burning wrath in his eyes, is an inferno of fear that I will choose to leave again.

"I never left the grounds. You can summon Delilah if you don't believe me." I set my jaw. I am still furious with him, regardless of his motives. "And your guards need better training if you plan to have them keep me here against my will." I storm off into the bathroom slamming and locking the door behind me.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror for a long time, gripping the edge of the sink until my knuckles turn white. All of my energy is focused on not screaming my frustrations. I am not just angry with Maven, I am also furious with myself for putting Captain Nornus at risk. I let the cold water flow until it runs icy. I lean low over the sink, willing myself not to vomit. I missed my tea this morning, and the nausea is starting to churn my stomach. I lift a glass to take a drink, to calm myself and my stomach, but my hands shake causing me to drop it. It shatters against the marble, spraying my face with water and crystalline shards. I shut my eyes but do nothing else to protect myself from the jagged shrapnel. My face is covered in tiny shallow scratches. Each thin red line might shed a single tear, but it might be enough. There is a quiet knock at the door.

"My Lady, are you alright?" It is a handmaid, but it is not Kyra. I choose not to answer, but I shut off the water. The next knock is a little more insistent.

"Mare, open the door." The calm has been replaced by subdued disquiet. I can only assume that he thinks the worst of me. That I shattered the cup to use the glass against myself. If I were honest, I would admit that the large piece laying in the sink is tempting me more than I am comfortable with.

"Yeah, I don't think I will." I call back through the heavy wooden door.

"Are you hurt?" His voice is muffled. I move away from the sink and lay my ear against the door. It is warm under my cheek. He is pressed against the other side.

"Continually. By you." I don't bother to accuse him of anything.

"Open the door." I don't respond. "You know this door would not keep me out If I wanted—"

"Choose not to want to." It is not a challenge. The fight that I felt is waning. It might get me killed in the arena later, but it will keep me and possibly the handmaid in my bedroom out of the path of Maven's rage until then.

"I need to see that you are unharmed." I relent to the hint of regret in his voice and open the door. He looks me over with sad eyes.

"I dropped a cup. I have a few cuts from the glass, it is nothing I can't handle myself." He nods and steps back so that I might close the door again. I don't, rather, I go about getting ready for the impending Trial as though nothing happened this morning. I don't even flinch as the warm water stings the cuts on my face. I watch through the steamed glass as a red girl cleans up the scattered shards. When she leaves, Maven takes up watch. His vigilant gaze makes me more than a little hot. He leans casually against the window waiting to see if I will do something regrettable. When I step out of the shower, he catches me around the middle and wraps me in a fluffy towel.

"Don't take too long, Bloodtrial starts in two hours, and I want Lady Skonos to heal your face before you enter the arena." I wrench myself out of his embrace. I am not ready for him to be so close. I have not forgiven him for this morning's display. He seems to accept it and move past it quickly. "I'll summon the healer." He leaves the room.

By the time I have finished dressing, Maven has returned with Larissa. Moments later, Clarisse enters and sets down a white box before leaving. The handmaid starts brushing and braiding my hair, and another sets my cup of tea down on the table. Everything happens all at once. I close my eyes and block everything out. I would prefer to be alone before I go into the arena, but it seems that that will not be so. I feel Larissa's cold hands on my face. She does more than heal my cuts; she soothes all of my aches and pains and whispers in my ear _"Protect yourself."_

I don't open my eyes until The Handmaid finishes braiding and pinning up my hair. Its pulled back, away from my face so that it will not distract me in battle. I drain the teacup and ask everyone to leave. Maven stays behind.

"I would like to be alone." I try to be gentle with my request, but the words sound wrong in my ears. Maven crouches down in front of me.

"I will give you some time, but this is very real for me too." He kisses my forehead as he stands. "I won't be far when you are ready." I wait almost a full minute after I watch Maven leave before I speak.

"Dash." A slender caramel skinned man appears seated on one of chaise lounges with his ankles crossed and his fingers laced behind his head. He flashes a stark white and toothy smile. "Was Bash able to find anything out?" After his mission to Delphie, Dash told me what he found in Anabel's chambers and his suspicions. I had lost my original timetable when I found out I'm pregnant and have been working purely on instinct since. What should have taken at least three months, has been compressed into a strict six-week timeline.

"Nothing has changed in the Guard's plans on the outside, but those plans do not match the plans found in Lady Lerolan's possession. Both you and your Prince are in danger if you cannot get out before the assault." Dash sounds somber, which does not suit his personality at all.

"Has he been found?" I bite my lip as I wat for his reply.

"No, He hasn't been seen or heard from since the announcement of Bloodtrial was made. Although, there are rumors of Evangeline inside the city." _Evangeline? Oh, Cal, predictable._ I get up and go over to the white box that had been left for me. Inside is a sleek, tight fitting, tactical bodysuit in black and red. I pull it out of its box and hold it up. A couple more weeks and my pregnancy would be on display for the entire kingdom to see in this suit. I toss it aside.

"If he interferes, I won't be able to salvage this mission. You have to keep him away, Dash." There is urgency in my voice. I am afraid. Not of Iris, but of the repercussions of a reckless incursion.

"Armies haven't been able to keep him from you; how could I?" Both of my hands move to cover my abdomen.

"Use his Son if you have to, but only as a last resort." When Dash realizes what I am telling him, his eyes go wide for a moment before his features settle into a solemn expression. He looks down and puts his face in his hands, scrubbing them slowly before rubbing them back over where his hair should be.

"I wouldn't even know where to look for him." I head for the closet.

"Start with any of the ways you would use to get into the palace." I emerge from the closet with a set of keys. "If you find him and Evangeline is with him, there are two targets that you need to hit. Do you understand? He nods slowly. "He has to leave me behind, Dash. Ten more days." I toss him the keys.

"He will not like it." Dash has no idea how much Cal will not like it.

"There is still almost an hour before the trial starts, Go to the old Jacos House first." He nods once and disappears. I ask the guards in the hall to summon the King and go back inside to put on the catsuit. When Clarisse steps in to announce his arrival, she also zips up the back of the suit.

"Good luck, My Lady." She bows herself out of the room.

"How is it that the people around you either love you or want to kill you. No one who has had the pleasure of your company is ambivalent towards you." I grant him the small concession of embracing me. It would not be wise to anger him this close to the start of Bloodtrial.

"I just have one of those faces." I want him to let go, but I stand still.

"When you prevail, I will finally have you as my Queen." It is barely a whisper. Those words were not meant for me to hear. I wonder if he has spared a thought for the last time he bid me farewell for the arena. If he remembers the way he taunted and tortured Cal and I before I promised him that I would never again make the mistake of loving him and spit in his eye. I almost feel as though that happened in another life. "You do not have to do this. I could still save you."

"No. We have already discussed this, it is better this way." I take a deep breath, his touch is suffocating.

"Nothing I say will change your mind?" I shake my head slowly, nuzzling my face against his chest. "Come with me. Maven lets go of me but offers me his arm. I actually take it.

It has been a while since I went a round with a nymph. I try to recall the fight, to remember how I was attacked, what kind of defense they put up, but the only encounter that stands out is the day that Gisa's hand was crushed. The memory makes my blood boil. I lose sight of my surroundings and have to take several deep breaths to calm down. I take a quickly look around, we have stopped in one of the gallery halls. Bright blue fire banner in Maven's hand.

"Mare, are you alright?" I give a weak smile.

"I'm fine. Why?" I keep my voice light.

"It has been a long time since you tried to electrocute me unprovoked. What upset you?" This is not the time or the place to offer him a glimpse into my vulnerabilities. But I cannot think of an answer that will satisfy him.

"I was Thinking about the first time I encountered a Nymph." He stays quiet, waiting for me to finish enlightening him. "Do you remember the first time the Scarlet Guard attacked?"

"Yes." There is a hint of confusion in his answer.

"I was inside the gates at Summerton. I was with my little sister in the marketplace when the news broke. We were caught in a silver mob. I was almost drowned in a fountain just for having red blood. And Gisa, she lost the one thing that would have saved her from conscription." He gives a small sign of understanding.

"Hold on to your anger, you will need it today." He takes my hand and leads me down below the arena. It is attached to the estate by a series of underground tunnels. I had seen them on the blueprints but hadn't yet had the chance to scout them as a possible escape route. He pushes his way through the massive steel doors without a second thought for me. I manage to slip through the doors just before they slam shut behind him.

"Where is Iris?" The people around use mill about, pretending to work on prepping for the trial, pretending not to listen. I glance around wondering how any of them manage to go through their days without telling anyone what they know about their King. The stories these people could tell would seal his fate ten times over.

"In the holding cells. Step up onto the platform." I do as he instructs. "Before the match starts, you will be raised into the arena. Do not let her corner you." I look down at him. I can hear the strain in his voice, the fear. He let go of me before we entered the room and stands out of reach. He is distancing himself from me, from the possibility of my death and the feelings it will create. I don't say anything until he turns to leave.

"You're not going to say goodbye?" He stops but doesn't turn around. I watch his shoulders drop and his head bow.

"No." He stalks out of the room looking dejected.

* * *

 **Iris' POV**

I feel most of the weight of the silent stone in my mind. The physical effects I can stomach, But the silent stone makes my mind feel heavy. It takes far too long to reason through the possibilities. The dull ache is an ever-present reminder of the cage in which the boy King has trapped me. It makes my calm too still.

My father used to tell me that my tranquility and steady calm were my greatest asset. That it would allow me to see farther, listen better, and out whit even a master his own game. He put me here to learn, to dismantle the power of a sadistic King and take over from the inside by any means necessary. But the girl, his obsession, I cannot see past her. There is no way to predict her moves, her patterns. It would be imprudent of me to believe that her acts of love for that little monster are sincere, or for me to think that she is not here on behalf of the Scarlet Guard. She gives over the names of those who would betray him. She even managed to push me into hastily trying to eliminate her before she disrupted my plans. And now, everything is in Jeopardy. I have to kill her in the arena, or everything my family has worked for will be destroyed.

It should be simple enough. Her lightning doesn't stand a chance against my water; it will never touch me.

"Look at how far you have fallen, Iris." His voice is like oil on my skin, it makes me feel dirty. I turn to face Maven.

"I am still Queen, and I will be addressed as such." His usual bored expression has been abandoned for a smirk of derision. He shakes his head slowly.

"Your title meaningless. You have always been a means to an end. I betted with your father to end a war all to appease and impress another woman. And now that I have her body, I no longer need you to give me an heir." I try not to rise to his challenge. He wants me to feel off balance to give that abomination of a lover of his, a chance at survival. I manage to keep my voice low and even.

"You think I would have given you an heir?" He smiles wickedly and growls a dark chuckle.

"How quaint. You think I didn't know about your little precautions? That I didn't replace them and take steps ensure that you would eventually bare me a son? But none of that matters now that I have Mare; the Reds will rally behind her when I marry her and make her their symbol of hope for a better future." I seethe at the thought of his violation of my body. I shiver involuntarily, repulsed by the very sight of him. I can't hold it in any longer. I scream a savage shriek of rage and disgust. When I fall to my knees and can scream no longer, he lets out a satisfied sigh.

"Musical." He turns on heel and strides out of the cells. His laughter echoes in the halls.

I stare at the place where he stood long after he left. Regaining my calm is taking far too much work. I can't even slow my breathing. A Kingsguard steps in front of me and brings his fist down hard on the bars. A strongarm.

"On your feet traitor." The voice that comes from inside the mask is rough and masculine. I do as I am told. "Turn around, hands against the bars." He reaches through and binds my hands before opening the cell. The guard jerks me around. He must be loyal to Maven either through fear or misguided faith. Either way, I cannot risk anything here. He pushes me down the hall and presses me against the bars that separate me from the arena. The rusted iron digs into my sternum and in between my ribs. The coarse metal bites into the skin of my face. When they slide open, the bar slices thin lines into my cheek around my left eye. The guard pushes me into the arena just before the door slams shut again.

The warm sun feels like heaven on my face. I bow my head and say a prayer for peace. My head is already starting to clear now that I am out from under the stone. I ask the Gods to grant me strength, serenity, and wisdom. It is a prayer I have said many times. I block out the noise of the crowd above. It seems the promise of carnage between warring women draws a large crowd. An eerie hush falls over the crowd when Maven steps up to the edge of his box. I swallow down the bile that rises in my throat at the sight of him. Somewhere in the deep ocean of my self, I find my spine and hold my head high. I face the charges of treason and attempted murder as he lays them out before me. His voice rings in my ears as my opponent rises from the dust at the other end of the field.

Neither she nor I garner any applause on our own, but a clash of titans brings thunder to the air. If I close my eyes, I will feel the vibration of their ovations. I watch her as she scans the crowd and casually wonder if there is one face or many that she searches for. My mind flashes back to an envelope slid under my door with the suggestion of the rite of Bloodtrial inside. I had assumed that the tip had come from one of my allies inside the palace, now I wonder if it was an emissary of my adversary setting me up to be a diversion in the Scarlet Guard's ploy to rescue the face of their rebellion. It is a tactic they have used before. She settles on a point off to her right, a flurry of emotions flickers across her face. I follow her line of sight but see nothing.

When the horn sounds, we both tense. Neither of us had been listening to grand orations of the child King. I watch her fists clench, and the purple light flash between fingers. I take a moment to feel out the water around me. I am slow to find it, the effects of the silent stone are still ebbing away. We study each other. Neither of us has had adequate time to weigh and measure the other, though admittedly, her opening moves were well played., if blind. I take a deep breath and gather both my strength and my element. I touch the molecules. I missed them while I was away.

Neither of us feels the need to make the opening move. As the water slowly seeps to my side through the ground, waiting for my command, I feel a slight tingle in my fingertips that slowly engulfs my hands. I stretch my fingers. I must still be feeling the effects of the stone. Mare catches my eye and winks, The tingle stops. I pull the water from its hiding place and wrap it around me like a shell. The water never touches my skin, so whatever she throws at me will never reach me. It also gives me a chance to study her. I watch the static raise her hair and swirl in flashes of purple light. It is almost hypnotic, nothing more than a show. She is cocky. I lash out with a whip made of water. The pressurized water slashes between the streaks of electricity; leaving a gash across Mare's face, the only exposed skin of her body. First blood is mine.

She cocks her head to one side and wipes the blood from her face, leaving behind a smile. Her lightning coalesces into a shield of purple energy sparks fly from it as she moves. I lash out again with the high-pressure whip. When It makes contact with the whip, the energy discharges in a shock wave that throws me backward causing me to lose hold of my protective shell. I hit the stone hard causing her lights to dance before me. It is not her lightning that strikes me next, it is her fists. One catches me in the solar plexus with a low voltage shock. She is going to draw this out if I let her. The crowd's cheers and jeers fall on deaf ears. I am not interested in their entertainment.

I throw up a wall of water between us. Using it to push back against her. She stumbles back allowing me just enough space to regain my footing. I drive more pressure into the water in the wall I hear her scream as it tears at the second skin she wears and the flesh beneath it. She throws herself free, tucking into a ball and rolling away from it. The water cuts through a nearby boulder before I call it back. Now she knows who she is dealing with. I feel the heat just before the shock. A mirror of my whip wraps around one of my ankles, searing, cutting, pulling me off my feet until I am flat on my back. Storm clouds gather overhead, blocking out the beautiful midday sun. I smile to myself, rain. It has been days since the last summer storm, and this one could not have presented itself at a better time. A web of lightning climbs over my body. It is my turn to scream.

When she comes back into my hazy purple field of view, pieces of her suit hang in shreds. She is missing a sleeve, and she bleeds from several open wounds. I use everything inside me to hurl a disc of water at her, striking her square in the chest throwing her back into a waiting pool of water. As she inhales the water, the electricity starts to die, As it fades, I increase the pressure of the water holding her under both drowning her and squeezing the life out of her. I stand the sparks of her life are getting dimmer. Now that I am out from beneath her hold, the pressure around her eyes should be almost enough to burst the blood vessels in her eyes. She will die an excruciating death.

I have made it to the edge of the pool. Mare lies very still, eyes closed. I turn and stare up at the King who stands at the edge of his box a look of pure fury on his face. He cannot exact retribution from me for her death. The laws of both countries protect me. Something akin to a hot wire climbs my spine inside my skin. It wraps itself around the bones cutting through the soft tissue between the bones. I fall to the ground, unable to move, my face turned toward the pool. I watch as she rises from her watery grave. She could be made of diamondglass for her resilience. I cannot see the storm anymore, but it may be my last hope. If I am going to die, I am going to take this sniveling little bitch with me.

I reach for the rain, hoping against all the odds that I might encase her completely in water; but the clouds are a dessert with no oasis in sight. It is her storm. Purple lightning slashes down from the sky, splitting the field down to it metallic bones. I smell the fire. Feel the heat as it strikes every inch of the arena floor. I know that I will be eviscerated when it strikes me. I can't even scream when It finally does. I watch as the sand turns to glass before me I feel nothing. _Black_

* * *

 **Mare's POV**

I collapse on the field. I couldn't stand If I tried. I am exhausted. Everything hurts. I feel the blood running from both my ears, My vision is red. I curl into myself as my muscles shriek, but I have to protect my peanut. I have to keep him safe. My mind is a scattered mess of thoughts and memories. I cannot make sense of anything. I see Larissa kneel next to me, feel her cold hands first on my abdomen. And then on my face. My head starts to clear as she and her team work on healing my injuries.

"Your wounds are superficial, My Lady. I will have you on your feet in a matter of minutes." She leans in close to me, turning her head as if listening for my breath.

"Is everything—" She silences me with a nod. Within minutes I feel whole and well. I stand a survey the carnage. The field has been ripped apart. It lies around me in shambles. Glass impressions of my bolts lay half buried, reaching down to twisted and half melted steel beneath it. The rocks are splintered, and the grass is burned. But it is the sight of Iris that turns my stomach. She lies broken and blackened at the feet of a team of kingsguards. What is left of her body is outlined in glass. The sound of my screaming is choked out by vomit.

Maven has been watching from nearby, waiting for me to recover. He steps in as I turn away, dry heaving. I can't make sense of whatever he says to me before sweeping me off me off my feet to carry me out of the arena. Struggle against him causing him to drop me. When my feet hit the ground, I run. He tears after me, yelling my name. It isn't long before the boots of a squadron of Kingsguards echo in the halls around me. This isn't the first time I've been trapped and perused in the corridors. The last Time, it was Cal that caught me; but tonight, two sides of me scream for two different outcomes. One wishing that He would catch me in his arms again and run with me until the world forgets our faces; the other screams for him to stay away, to leave me behind and save himself.

I saw him, before the match standing with Dash, high up in the stands I felt my heart squeeze and my stomach flutter at the look on his face. I could not have imagined it. The thought of him seeing what I had done to Iris causes me to stumble and almost fall. When I find an exit, I run for the only place that will guarantee that I will be alone for at least a few minutes. I zigzag through the gardens taking a roundabout way of getting to the willow grove. When I hop the fence and conceal myself in the trees, I cover my mouth and scream into my hands. I don't want to be capable of that kind of brutality. I frantically search for something, anything to help me escape the torment I feel.

 ***** TRIGGER WARNING *****

A glint of silver catches my eye. The tip of a knife buried in a tree. When I pull it out, I find the evidence of it being repeatedly thrown. Target practice. I turn it over in my hand. Twisting the tip against my palm. Blood wells up around it as it turns around and around and around. I pull the knife out of my hand and hold it up. Watching the blood drip down the blade is oddly soothing. I cut across my palm in the opposite direction of the cut I wore when I arrived here. The cut is much deeper and weeps in a way that cannot. It spills over the stones of the fire pit like a sacrifice to a god we forgot when they started to walk among men as Silver Lords.

 ***** END TRIGGER *****

"I thought you might escape to this place." I look up from the stones and turn to face him. Blood runs down my arm and drips from my elbow. "I thought you might do something like this as well." He approaches me slowly ripping a strip of fabric from the bottom of his shirt. I won't allow him wrap my hand. I can't stomach his similarities between Maven and his brother. I do it myself to placate him, to make that look in his eyes go away; that look of sorrow and regret. "Why did you run from me?" He has been asking me why a lot recently.

"I didn't run from you, I ran from what I did to Iris. I ran from what I let myself become." I did run from him. I ran from his praise of my victory. I can't fathom how I will survive the onslaught over the next ten days.

"And what is that exactly? You have always been everything that I see before me." He stares directly into my eyes. It makes me shift uncomfortably.

"Cruel. I have never been cruel until today." I could have killed her humanely. I could have cut through her spine at the brain stem. She would have felt nothing, never seen it coming. Instead, I paralyzed her and forced her to watch her own death. But this is not the first time, is it? No, it started with Delilah. It started with forcing her to watch the deaths of her brother Samson. I had taken a page from the playbook of a sociopath, and the ink rubbed off on my fingers. Everything I am doing here is vicious to a degree that eats at my soul and tares at the fabric of who I am. I need out.

"Will you let me take you upstairs and get you cleaned up? He sounds as though he farther than five feet away. We have both been silent for several minutes. He extends his hand to me. My hand shakes as I reach for it.

* * *

"I'd like to be alone." He scrutinizes my face and looks to my freshly healed hand. "I won't cut myself again." He takes a step back.

"take your time. I am not going anywhere." I close the door. I am ready to reemerge twenty minutes later cleaned of the blood and the filth, but there is nothing that could touch the shame. I stand behind the closed-door contemplating the available options. I could stick to the plan and wait it out, play my part like a good soldier. Or I could blow the emergency door and disappear. I haven't yet made my choice when I open the door. Maven greets me with a smile. I cross the room and wrap myself around him. I close my eyes and imagine that he is my King, my Cal. What I truly need in this moment. I bury my face in his shirt, looking for comfort that He cannot possibly provide. Now that I have seen him again, I remember that I could never really love another. It doesn't matter where Cal stands, Maven will always be in his shadow.

Maven would raze this city to the ground if he had any idea what I pine for while wrapped in his arms.

"Your beloved Prince was seen in the city." He shoves me away from him. The back of my legs hit a small table sending it and its contents crashing to floor. I would have fallen hard as well had Maven not grabbed my wrist and yanked me back; not to keep me from falling, but to keep me from getting away from him. "Did you think I wouldn't find out where you snuck off to this morning? That I would look the other way as you conspire to humiliate me?" I wince.

"I didn't know." I don't defend myself, mostly because there is nothing to defend, but also, because I don't want to validate the rumors that Cal could be somewhere in the city. I stand as still as possible, resisting the urge to break my wrist just to get out of his grip, staring into his cold, hard, eyes.

"Do not lie to me." There is no fire in his touch, just icy vehemence. I raise my free hand with the intention of touching his face. Instead, I twist the end of a lock of his hair just behind his ear.

"I didn't know, Maven. And even if I had, I made my choice. I am here; with you." My voice is soft, even though my heart races. He narrows his eye showing every outward sign of suspecting me of sedition.

"Where is my brother, Mare?" The threat is implied.

"I don't know." I don't know how my voice manages not to shake.

"I believe you, though we both know you wouldn't tell me if you did." He releases my wrist. I cradle it against my chest. I don't let go of the lock of hair between my fingertips until he lays his hand over mine, pulling it away to kiss my fingers. The abrupt change is dizzying but is nonetheless what I was hoping for. "This is not how I wanted today to go."

"I know." I tuck myself back into him. "You wanted a grand celebration of your victory." I feel every muscle in his body tense at the quiet accusation. "that's it, isn't it? You dreamed that in the wake of my victory, you would bring me back here, shower me with affection until I fall into your arms so that you can make love to your incipient Queen?" With the last statement, I pull my head back and look up at him, a sneer that would rival one of his own painted over my lips. "I am not a trophy. I will not be your Queen." I start to push away from him as he grows steadily warmer. "I will not give you an heir, I wi—" The back of a feverish hand strikes my face. I let myself fall, dropping so that I can sweep his feet out from under him. He hits the ground hard, convulsing from the shock that came with my kick. When he opens his eyes, I am standing over him. "Go ahead, ask me why I will never be your wife." We stare at each other in the caustic silence. The heat slowly recedes; Maven is the first to look away. I step over him and walk calmly out of his bedroom.

I am halfway through the sitting room when I hear the first in a series of loud crashes and shattering glass. Seconds later two of Mavens guards and Clarisse push their way through the double doors, jockeying for position, hoping to be the first to reach their mark. "You may want to wait, he is throwing a tantrum right now." Clarisse follows me out.

I cannot know if Dash and Cal accomplished their mission. There is no way to tell without putting myself in a compromising position. I watch the lightning crackle in the courtyard windows as storm into my rooms. Before slamming the doors, I turn to Clarisse. "I know that your loyalties are to him, but please, Clarisse, keep him away from me."

"I will do my best, My Lady." I look at her for a moment.

"Thank You." I close both sets of doors, locking them from the inside for the first time since he put me in this room. I want to fall into bed and sleep for days. But that dream will not be. When I turn around, Dash is standing near the balcony doors.

"Do not open your mouth unless you're going to tell me he is safe." I don't mean to sound so harsh, but my control is thin at best. He doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. I recall for a moment that he also has someone to protect—Bash, he understands.

"He is safe." It is not Dash that speaks.

"Cal." It is an agonized whisper. I let his presence engulf me.

"I told you he wouldn't like it." Dash smiles and steps through the balcony doors disappearing as they close.


	15. Risk & Reward

**Author's Note**

 **Hey kids, Welcome back!**

 **There are no hard trigger warnings in this chapter, but the standard warnings for Language, Violence, and Sexual Content apply.**

 **Tread Carefully, and Happy Reading.: )**

 **Mare's POV**

I squeeze my eyes shut. I don't want to believe my ears. It has to be a side effect of having my head squeezed in a water vice. I don't know what to hope for, the comfort or the hallucination. _Please be there when I turn around._ I grow steadily warmer with each passing second. I turn, and he is there, closer than I anticipated, but not close enough. It is like magnetic attraction. We are immediately a tangle of limbs. I can barely keep track of my hands, let alone his. I don't think, I just touch. I press every inch of myself into him, and he returns my ministrations.

My fingers curl into his hair. My face held against his chest, my toes only skimming the floor as he holds me fast to his rapidly beating heart. I have to bite back tears.

"Cal, you shouldn't be here." I can scarcely push the words out, even as a whisper. He sets me down but doesn't let go. He pulls the pins from my hair one by one as we talk.

"I know." He is quiet, almost contemplative, a stark contrast to what I feel inside his chest.

"You broke your promise." I don't accuse him. I can't blame him, I have wanted to be with him every day since I left him in that clearing. I had had a moment of doubt in myself where I wanted to run back to him but didn't. He just saw the opportunity and took it. Which one of us is braver.

"I know." The moments in between are quiet enough for me to hear the pins hit the floor.

"I'm sorry, My King." He lets out a long sigh. The stubble around the edge of his chin catches in my newly loosed hair. I don't think he will ever love my new favorite pet name for him, but he seems to have accepted it well enough.

"I have always liked your hair down around your face." My hair is an absurd thing for him to thinking about right now, but it makes feel happy for the slightest moment. I turn my face up and finally look at him, my damp hair clinging to my cheeks. His eyes burn at the sight of at the red mark across my face from Maven's hand. He tears his eyes away from the mark long enough to kiss me. I press in even closer to him, finally fulfilling a need that I have had since we said goodbye.

The lazy lightning that has been swirling around Whitefire since the Bloodtrial intensifies. A few wayward bolts strike around the grounds. I feel them tingle in my skin and gasp with every strike. When the lights go out casting everything in the greenish hue of an early afternoon storm, I freeze in place, unsure of which feelings prompted the shift out of the eye of the storm. With everything that has happened today, Maven will likely assume that I blacked the palace out on purpose

"You need to go." The first set of doors slam down the hall. "Now. Maven knows you're in the city."

"Is that why he gave you this?" The second set of doors slam. I don't have time to ease him into my mission. He cannot be caught, especially in here. Maven will kill him without the usual fanfare. He will strike in full force and not hesitate to kill us both

"Yes. Please, Cal, go" Dash enters from the balcony. "If you love me—if you ever, truly loved me, you'll go." I force as much wide-eyed desperation into my voice as possible.

"Where is she, Tyros?" I can hear Maven's rage through both sets of doors. Cal is listening intently to what is going on out in the hall. He doesn't know his little brother, not anymore. Cal may have the control and the composure, but Maven's flames have turned blue from blind hatred and anger. He burns like a brand-new star. I touch Cal's face and bring his attention back to me.

"Take Kyra and Larissa." I have to kiss him to keep him focused on me, to convince him to let me end this instead of seeking his own vengeance against his brother.

"She is in her bedroom, Majesty. My apologies but she requested that no one disturb her." Clarisse's voice Is just loud enough for me to hear without straining. I smile inwardly. Perhaps her loyalties are not as strong as I thought.

"I will not leave you here alone." His earnestness matches mine, and my heart breaks under its weight. I am asking the impossible of him—a request that I don't even think I could make myself comply with.

"Step aside, Tyros." Maven screams at Clarisse, but I imagine that she stands straight with her shoulders pushed back, looking past him.

"Mare, I saw Iris." I flinch, grateful that he had the foresight not to say _I saw what you did to her._ Even unsaid, the words hang in the air, suffocating me. "I will not leave you here alone. Not again."

"I cannot do that, sire. I am under orders."

"Whose?" He sounds incredulous, even through two sets of heavy wooden doors.

"Yours, Majesty." Cal and I share a look. "Your orders were to let nothing happen to her. Today, you happened to her, majesty. Again, my apologies, sire, but I cannot let you see her." Clarisse Tyros is nothing, if not a very clever woman.

"How powerful are mimics?" I am still struggling to keep his attention. My hands rest on his arms, where the tension is coiled in long ropes. He is itching for a fight. The only fight he has wanted for the last several months. The fight that will give him back his title and his future. I have no right to be disappointed at the realization, but I am. Disappointed that we are still standing on that balcony, neither willing to compromise who we are, who we were raised to be for something as small and simple as love. I swallow back my emotions.

"Why?" I know that he has been away from court for a long time, but he still knows the abilities that are inherited with a family name.

"My guard, the one outside the door; she is a Mimic." He still hasn't taken his eyes off the white lacquered wood. He stares at it as though he can see his brother through it if he looks hard enough.

"Her strength depends on the force of the power used against her. But The flames wouldn't harm a burner." I know he is not intentionally dismissing me, but my emotions are volatile today, and he is pissing me off.

"But lightning will." I let go of him, glancing over my shoulder at Dash. He nods in understanding "I'll find you." I finally have Cal's attention, but no time to explain my plan. I step away and make a quick dash for the doors before Cal can stop me. I watch the guys disappear out of the corner of my eye as I open the doors to the sitting room. I can already feel the heat before I reach the main doors. Maven has been trying to dismiss Sentinel Tyros, but she has refused to move. I hope that he hasn't hurt her yet. I arrange my face into the most neutral expression I can muster and turn the lock, throwing one door open.

The heat hits me in a wave, running into the room and drying the air out. Clarisse's face is pink and covered in a sheen of sweat, but she is a perfect soldier. Fire burns in Maven's hands. I level my gaze at him daring him to say anything at all to me. I cross my arms and step to one side—close to Clarisse, giving Cal and Dash a chance to pass by me. Until they are at a safe distance, I cannot provoke Maven, if I do, there will be no keeping Cal's anger from exploding.

"I believe your King has dismissed you, Sentinel Tyros." She doesn't move.

"He has, my lady." The heat is starting to recede, but it is clear that she has a few burns. The end of her nose is shiny and pink. "However, he also ordered me to ensure your safety." Maven's eyes fall to the red mark on my face. I rub my hand over the mark on my collarbone as well, being sure to pull my collar down far enough so that he can see the entire brand. He has extinguished the flames in his hands.

"Thank you, Tyros, but I don't think his Majesty intends to harm me any further today." I tuck my hand back into my defensive arm cross.

"If it pleases you, my Lady; I would rather stay." I nod. As I glance down, I see sparks in her clasped hands. The sparks are weak, and Maven Hasn't noticed them. I refocus my attention on him.

"What can I do for you, your majesty?" I drop my head and bend into a poor curtsy. He scoffs.

"Stand up." He is annoyed, and I am slow to rise. I step back and gesture him through the doors. I follow him in but hover around the not quite closed door, keeping my distance. "You're terrorizing the staff."

"I guess we finally have something in common, majesty." I am surprised at the light tone in my voice, but it gets my point across. His features sharpen as he glares at me from the middle of the room.

"Stop." His eyes blaze.

"My apologies, sire, but stop what?" My goading is getting under his skin, his glare nearing a snarl.

"Your insolence is infuriating. Get ahold of yourself and quell the storm." I cock my head to one side and look at him. I watch through the open doors to the balcony as the rainless storm outside starts to dissipate. I don't let it go completely, the bolts won't threaten the city or the grounds any longer, but the sky still lights a faint purple every few seconds. "Get dressed. I expect you outside the main hall in two hours." I must look confused because the snarl on his face turns into a smirk. "There is a reception in honor of your victory this evening." He pauses for a moment, smirk widening. "We will also, be announcing our intent to wed." I can almost feel the color leaching from my face. It runs down to stomach making me feel queasy.

"No. I won't do it." He crosses the room and takes my chin in his hand, squeezing too hard and forcing me to look up at him. The fading mark on my cheek burns

"I have been far too lenient with you. You've forgotten the rules of my hospitality." There is danger in his voice, which has dropped low enough that I doubt Clarisse will be able to hear him. "You will do as you are told. You will say what you are told to say. You will act as though you are a proper court lady when you are by my side. If not—" I member the words very clearly.

"Let me guess, the silent stone will be the least of my worries." If my interruption vexes him, he doesn't show it. In fact, he looks almost amused at my interjection.

"I will hand you over to the Lakeland Queen to answer for the Scarlet Guard and the death of their Princess." He hasn't let go of my chin so I can see the sparkle in his eye as he threatens me.

"I am not responsible for her death under the law." My voice is low, thin, and shaking.

"The truth is what I make it, or have you forgotten that as well?" He has scared me, and the look on his face proves that he knows it. Maven kisses me, but I resist, pulling my face back out of his grasp and turning my head before his lips touch mine. Instead, they brush my cheek. He is less than pleased.

When I turned my head, I caught the flash of silver. Cal's flamemaker. I am sure that the flames will mess with the light enough to reveal both Cal and Dash. Maven turns my gaze back to him with a single finger on the side of my face. The room has been getting steadily warmer since Maven entered, but now I am unsure of which brother the heat radiates from.

"Are you going to be a good girl this evening?" I nod slowly, keeping my eyes on the floor. "I can't hear you."

"Yes" I sound defeated, but I just want to get him out here. I can't see Cal or Dash now, and I am silently relieved that Dash seems to have gotten him to be still for the moment.

"Yes?" The look on Maven's face is triumphant.

"Yes, your Majesty." He leaves without another word. Slamming the door behind him.

As soon as the door closes, I fix my glare on the spot where I had seen the flash of a flamemaker. When I enter the bedroom, I pull the doors shut with a loud bang.

"You were supposed to get him out of here." The guys reappear. Dash shrugs.

"He's stubborn." I round on Cal.

"Are you trying to get us killed? What if he had seen you?" I let _us_ slip out, meaning the baby and I. I had no doubt who would prevail in close-quarter combat between the Calore brother's, what I am worried about, is the collateral damage. I hope that Cal absorbs the full impact of the four lives in the room. The tears start to run down my face before I have a chance to wipe them away. I can't tell if I am more pissed off or scared, either way, I shouldn't be crying. I sink down onto the end of the chaise, wiping water from my eyes.

"Mare, I'm sorry." He is on his knees in front of me. I hear Dash clear his throat. I look up.

"I didn't tell him. I couldn't do it." He doesn't look at me, preferring to watch his shoes shuffle over the carpet uncomfortably. I can't blame him, really. I should have been me to tell Cal anyway.

"Could you give us a minute, Dash? Please?" He nods and again steps out onto the balcony.

"What didn't he tell me?" Cal's jaw is set in a strong line, bracing himself for the worst. I let out a long sigh. Now isn't the time or the place, but I cannot avoid telling him now. I hadn't given any thought to how I would do it, nor did I have any kind of idea how he would react. If I were honest, I would admit that I am more afraid of this one admission than I had been in the arena with Iris.

"Cal," I try to stand, but he grabs my hands keeping right where I am. "I'm..." My throat is suddenly dry and sticky. I stare at my hand, fingers braided through his. "Pregnant." I squeeze my eyes shut, also preparing for the worst.

"How long?" His voice is rough, his forehead rests against mine.

"Almost two months." I swear, I can almost hear him counting back to the three days we spent together alone at the notch. Cal stands, pulling me up with him, guiding my hands up to clasp around his neck. He wraps me in a tight embrace, kissing me. A long, slow burning kiss that makes me feel weak in the knees.

"I am absolutely not leaving you behind now." I knew it was coming, and I accepted it when it did.

"Disappear with me." It isn't a question. If we want a chance at raising our son together, there is no way either of us can compromise. He cannot be King, and I cannot be the face of a revolution. We both have to let go and find somewhere where no one knows who we are. He searches my face for a moment.

"Mare—" I shake my head and pull back from him just a little bit.

"No, don't think about it. Yes or no." I grasp one of his hands and place it over my abdomen, resting mine on it and looking him in the eyes. "We are both responsible for this life. There is no way to protect him here." The words that I don't want to say weigh heavily on my mind. _I am taking him away from here regardless of your decision._

"Him?" I nod. "A boy, a little prince." It startles me to hear my thoughts echoed in a whisper. "Yes." I look at him surprised and a little ashamed that I had been so sure that he wouldn't be able to make the decision, sure that he would fall back on his duty to The people the same way he had so many times before. I also happen to know that he wants a family more than anything else in the world. I am relieved that he finally found something he wouldn't sacrifice for King and country; his son.

"You know what you have to do then?" He nods Dash pokes his head back around the doorframe, he had very obviously been eavesdropping. I try to step away from Cal, but he won't allow it, keeping me locked into his embrace with both hands on my stomach. I already find it suffocating, but I relax into it to keep him happy. "Were both items acquired?"

"Yes. I took three of them from the dates you specified and from a quick skim, they look pretty damning." Dash's naturally joyful demeanor is evident once more. He is happy to see Cal and I together as he had once told me he would be.

"I want all of them; could you get me the rest? Tonight?" I tread carefully. I have the beginnings of a plan forming in my head, but I am loath to give the details to anyone; including a man I have trusted as the confidante for several weeks and the one I love.

"I don't Understand, The Guard will only need the one to Clear Cal and—" I interject.

"I'm not giving them to the Guard." Both men give me puzzled looks. "Davidson's goal is to set up a provisional government, He made the deal to appease Anabel Lerolan and Volo Samos. He never intended to clear Cal's name." I look back and forth between them.

"What is the new plan?" Dash appears to be with me, but still, I try to sidestep the question.

"Did you find any evidence of the Facility?" I know that Dash had taken files from Maven's office a couple of weeks ago, but I had never pushed him to tell me what he found in them. I was not good at being a friend, not even to my oldest friend Killorn.

"Yes. I still plan on handing that file over to the Guard, unless you object of course." I shake my head. I have no problem with the Guard raiding the facility and liberating those held there.

"Can you handle provisions while I distract the court?" I turn my face up to look at Cal. He is listening, but his mind is apparently preoccupied. I can't tell if he is making plans or thinking about our boy.

"Yes. I will take care of everything." He gives me a little squeeze of reassurance. I have always refused to let him actually take care of me. Arms-length or further is my usual level of comfort. He can lie next to me, but not hold me and love me but never say it. There were exceptions to the rule; like when he rescued me for the palace the last time, I had let him hold me on the way to Piedmont. Now would be no different. I will let him hold me until the very last second without complaint. The very least I could do was put his happiness above mine for a couple of hours.

"You'll have to let me go to do it." I am teasing.

"Hush." I feel his cheek resting on my hair.

There is a knock at the door, and it opens before Dash and Cal have the opportunity to disappear. Kyra looks up startled at the scene playing out in my bedroom. I put a finger to my lips. She enters and closes the door quickly as though nothing out of the ordinary is happening.

"I continually give you more credit than is due." The pointed comment is directed at Cal. Kyra obviously has an issue with the entire Royal family. I give Kyra a sharp look. She shrugs it off and busies herself unpacking the basket she carried in. "You two should make yourself scarce, the healer is on her way."

"When?" Dash looks at me. I appreciate his discretion. He knows as well as I do that Kyra cannot be implicated.

"After sunset, but before the party ends."

"Where?"

"There is a garden with a grove of willow trees at the northeast corner of the grounds." I turn back to Cal, sliding my hands up his chest and up around his neck. "Please be careful. Don't take any unnecessary risks." I am hoping that he catches the meaning without me saying it— _stay away from your brother._ He nods

"Try not to provoke him. I prefer the mother of my child unharmed." He runs his thumb over the mark on my cheek, pushing my hair back with it. I bite back the words that sit on my tongue. _I love you._ He gives me a quick kiss before he and Dash disappear. They don't have to wait long before Larissa Skonos arrives and they can slip through the doors.

"My colors, he hit you this time." She turns my face toward the light from the window.

"It isn't the first time." She shakes her head, but brings her hand up to heal the minor burn. I grab her wrist. "Leave it." She looks at me with wide eyes.

"I was ordered to, my lady." The fair blonde woman looks small and uneasy today.

"Tell him I refused. Tell him I threatened you if you have to. I would rather wear it for everyone to see." Larissa and Kyra both stare at me. Neither able to believe that I would openly defy and shame the King for his actions. They are visibly worried about my safety.

"As you wish, my lady" She bows here way out of the room.

An hour later, I am made up into a proper lady. At my request, Kyra left my hair down in loose curls. It is pulled off to one side with the gray ends tucked in. My red cheek is on full display. She did my makeup so you can hardly tell I am wearing any, which makes the handprint look even more defined and vibrant. She also chose the most conservative dress in the closet. A scarlet floor length dress that pools around my feet. It has cap sleeves, and a modest heart-shaped neckline. The angry red brand on my collarbone is fully visible. She finishes with a simple necklace and earrings with matching dark red stones. Before I step out into the Corridor, she wraps a black silk scarf around my shoulders and ties the ends behind my back.

"Thank you, Kyra; for everything." She acknowledges that I spoke, but says nothing. "You should get as far away from Whitefire as you can tonight." She nods and leaves without another word.

###

 **Cal's POV**

Her confession hit me in the chest harder than any strongarm ever could. It knocked me so far out of reality that I am still stunned. For a moment I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. My entire world collapsed in on itself, and from the ruins, I stepped into something new, something intangible that I could not put my finger on immediately. My thoughts circle back to her even more now than they did while we were separated. Up until about half an hour ago, I had vacillated on the edge of making a decision. Since she kissed me goodbye on that balcony in Corvium; I danced back and forth over my feelings. Every morning I woke up sure of what was right, but by the time I fell asleep, I was unsure again. But the second the words fell from her lips I was sure. Before I even counted back the weeks in my head, there was no going back. Even if the child wasn't mine, I could never in good conscience let my brother raise him.

Even now, as I walk through the halls to my old bedroom, I have trouble keeping my thoughts on the mission. Of all the ridiculous things to be thinking about, I can't get the way her lips move when she says my name out of my head. It has been this way for days since I came back to the city. I thought I would be preoccupied with everything I missed while I was away from Archeon, in exile; the fresh rolls from the bakery in Cesare's Square—I assumed that the baker was the only man in town that woke before I did, the machinist hidden away in the artisan district who spends his time designing clockwork assemblies, and the young woman who sells flowers outside the Hexaprin Theatre, she sings before the streets fill for the morning; the same sad lullaby every day. Instead, my days are filled with Mare; the way she moves, the way she laughs, the way she fidgets when she's upset, the way her hair smells. Today is no different. Even though I have seen her, held her; I still can't get her out of my head.

When we reach the familiar mahogany door, I stop. Memories flood my consciousness. They run past me in quick glimpses. A forgotten life flashing before my eyes. A lot of them are just of time spent studying and tinkering, others show games of chess with my little brother—teaching him to play the way that Uncle Julian taught me. The one that sticks though is of Mare, of course, it is; whatever else would I think about? Maven had brought her up to my room at the Hall of the Sun to ask me to take her home. Neither he nor I had any idea that I had already started to fall for her when I opened the door, shirtless and still damp from a shower. I watched her eyes sweep over me resting on a patch of fresh bruising from my training with the men that morning. Concern mingled with admiration. I felt smug. And when that delicate pink flush spread over her chest and neck and rose over her cheeks. I felt hot and insecure, wondering to myself what it would feel like if she put her hands on me. I got my answer as she clung to me when I took her home—like everything I had ever wanted, but would never have. I blink the memory away.

I glance around the shadowed hall before I push the door open. At first glance, it looks exactly the same. Armor on stands, books, and manuals scattered and stacked on the shelves. The table still set for an unplayed game of Chess. I step inside, out of Dash's range to conceal me.

"Do you mind if I do this alone?" All I see is Dash's hand, giving me a thumbs up. I shut the door. Alone in my bedroom, I drop the knapsack I had been carrying. I came in here for a few specific things, but I give myself a moment to run my fingers over familiar spines and steel. I unsheathe my dress sword, admiring the way the hilt glitters in the late afternoon light. I flick my wrist a few times, getting reacquainted with the familiar weight. After only a few moments, I re-sheath it. I pull open drawers, looking for the collection of knives. I can't quite remember where I had left them. When I finally find them, I pull out the long, lethal looking hunting knife with a blade that is serrated at one end. I stow it in the knapsack and strap another to my calf, so the blade sits just inside my boot. I take two more for good measure.

I grab a few other practical things, straying only to the sentimental for a few moments in between, But the last item on my list, I seek for out of pure selfishness. I round the bed to stand in front of the night table on the far side. I bring my fist down on the top sending a spray of dust into the air. I cough as I kick the side of the boxy table. The drawer I had rigged as a hiding place pops open. I crouch down and reach all the way back, behind the drawer itself, feeling blindly for a small box. For a moment, I fear that someone has found it and my chest tightens. I exhale when my fingers close around it. I pull it out. I am still on my knees when I hear the door open. I pull the small knife from my boot gripping it tight in one hand and the box in the other. I peer over the bed; Mare.

"You are so predictable." I quickly put both the knife and the box away and stand up.

I hear the lock click before she rushes to me, catching me before I can put my arms around her. She kisses me. Her lips are fire. Hot and insistent. I put my hands on her. It only takes seconds for the two of us to dissolve into a burning, tangled mess of limbs and emotions. We are both breathing heavily when her dress slips off her shoulders, and my pants fall around my ankles. I press her into the post of the heavy polished wood bedframe. I lift her; she grabs ahold of the post pulling herself higher and slowly lowering herself until I am deep inside her, my hands gripping her hips. I watch every sultry expression she makes as she moves. She bites at her lips trying desperately not to make a sound, and she rides me. Her back arches as she takes me in, again and again, pressing against me, driving me wild with desire. I rise to meet her every time she comes down. Her thighs glisten, slick with moisture I am dying to taste again. Her muscles tighten around me, legs shaking; her fingernails dig into the wood, leaving behind deep scratches in the finish before she entangles her hands in my hair. I wrap my arms around her and lay her down. I run two fingers in circles over her clit, claiming my taste. I give her only a few hard thrusts before I finish too.

I fall to my knees, lightheaded and exhausted; as if I had poured my entire being into her and left myself with nothing. I let my hand trail down her still shaking leg. I lay on the floor of my childhood bedroom breathing erratically, covered in fluids, but more than a little pleased with myself. I suck the juices off my fingers. She tastes the same as I remember, maybe just a touch sweeter. When I open my eyes, she is lying on the edge of the bed, smiling down at me. I can smell our tryst in the air. I breathe deeply.

"You came hard." Her smile doesn't change. Only she would consider that a compliment.

"I missed you." She crawls out of bed and hops over her dress, which is pooled on the floor. She is in the bathroom when I call to her quietly again. "Also, I am not the one who destroyed the furniture when she climaxed." She takes a moment to examine her handiwork before kneeling down beside me. She wraps a warm wet washcloth around my cock. I gasp as she rubs, gently cleaning away all the evidence of our rendezvous. It feels good to have her touch me again. I pull my pants back on. When she stands, she holds her hands out to me. I take them and let her pull me up.

"Is that a problem?" I pull her into me and kiss her gently.

"We'll blame it on the cat." The sound of her laughter rings in my ears even though it is quiet, I help her back into her dress and the scarf that was discarded by the door. When she moves to unlock the door, I stop her. "Wait, there is one more thing." I take the little wooden box out of my pocket and open it, revealing two simple gold wedding bands; they belonged to my parents. Nanabel had given them to me when I turned sixteen. She had told me that even though I was bound to live through a political marriage, _which would probably be to that dreadful Samos girl_ ; she hoped that I would still find a love of my own to give this ring to. I pick out the smaller of the two. "It was my mother's." She looks at me with fear in her eyes. I know what her answer will be if I ask, so I don't. Instead, I slide it onto her right hand. "I just want you to wear it so that you know that I will protect you for as long as I can." She looks down at her hand held in mine, ring finger circled in gold. She pulls it away, and my heart sinks. I squeeze my eyes shut, inches away from another round of miserable heartbreak at her hands until I feel the cool metal touch my skin. I look down at my hand held in hers, ring finger circled in gold.

"I won't ever take it off." I catch a tear on my finger careful to lift it away before it can streak down her face. I pocket the box.

"Then neither will I." Dash and I escort her through the corridors. She is late for her own party, but I have trouble feeling sorry for it. When we reach the grand stairs, I lean in close to her.

"You look beautiful tonight." I watch her walk down the stairs, amazed by her strength. I count the pieces of treason she wears as she descends; a burning handprint left on her by the King Himself, the musky afterglow of physical love, and a little gold band—both given by the King's own brother. When she reaches the bottom, she turns and gives one last look at the spot where I would be standing, if I could be seen. I watch her walk away.


	16. A Slave, a Soldier, A King & a Girl

**Author's Note**

 **This chapter features strong language and implied violence.**

 **As always, Tread Carefully and Happy Reading!**

 **Dash's POV**

Quick and steady footsteps click down the hall towards us. Each one echoing in the silent hall. They bleed into one another, so if you don't listen hard enough, you can't tell where one echo stops and the next begins. It's a chorus of angry footfalls headed straight for a girl. I would never consider Mare Barrow defenseless, but right now, she is trapped in more than one precarious position. If anyone makes a wrong move, we could lose her for good this time.

I wedge my fingers in between my sweaty neck and stiff collar. The fabric sticks when I try to pry it away. The hall is hot even though it opens up into a grand entryway with a sweeping staircase. I grab ahold of the arm of the man next to me.

"If it were worth it, I would have done it already." His bicep flexes in my grasp. If neither of us were spoken for, he would be just my type—well built, with no idea how damaged he really is. "You'll put her at risk." He immediately stops moving. The few moments that it takes for the King to approach and pass his brother and I stretch into forever. My mind runs through everything that Tiberias Calore could do to his little brother in the space of only a few seconds. I'm sure the kill would have been quick and decisive, but that hadn't been his plan. Just as King Maven passed, Cal pulled his foot back a few inches. Like a jealous child and true sibling, he had planned to trip him and watch him tumble gracelessly down the marble stairs to land at the feet of all his courtiers. I admit, there would have been a certain kind of poetry to it; and however childish the act may seem on the outside, it bears a spark of brilliance. Maven would have never known that it hadn't been the tip of his pointy, mirror shined shoe, that caught on the edge of the first step that did it.

"You're late." Maven addresses her with a scolding tone, Cal bristles. I can't say that if the situation were reversed, and Bash were the one being threatened before my eyes, I wouldn't be feeling the same way about standing still.

"From where I am standing, it's you who appears to be late." I wince. She is already pushing him to a rise, and he hasn't even seen her face yet.

"I've been looking for you. Where have you been?" His voice is low, but it carries in the open chamber, the acoustics are not to his advantage. He reaches out to grab her arm, but she steps out of his reach as if she could predict his every move.

"Cal's room." Cal sways next to me. Neither of us can believe that she would strike a blow like that. He takes off down the stairs, pulling me with him as I have not released his well-muscled bicep. I make myself as heavy as possible to slow him down. We are nearly three-quarters of the way down the stairs when he stops. Mare has turned to face Maven. There are no emotions displayed on her face; it is a blank stone marred by a shiny pink handprint. Not a single Kingsguard moves when Maven grabs her wrist and yanks her into an adjoining gallery. The doors slam shut just before we reach them, rattling in their frames.

Cal and I stand facing opposite directions. He stares into the gleaming wood, while I watch the guards. Clarisse Tyros is nowhere to be found. I scan the crowd gathered at the doors to the great hall. Larissa Skonos is also missing. I let go of the Prince. He trembles with rage.

"My mother always said you were a vicious whore." The words are muffled, but still close to the door.

"It's too bad mommy is no longer here to tell me that herself." I have never heard Mare sound so cold. It sends a shiver down my spine. I had heard the story of Elara's brutal death and saw it for myself today in the arena with Iris. A twisted, blackened end that sparkled when the lightning reflected off the newly formed glass on her charred skin. "What are you going to do, Maven? Hit me again? Or is that no longer satisfying for you?" Glass shatters, then silence. My own heartbeat pounds in my ears, my fingers grip Cal's sleeve to keep him concealed and still. His pulse is quicker than mine under my fingers which are burning.

"What were you doing in there?" The tension breaks when Maven speaks. We both exhale. Moments before, the King had sounded drunk with fury, now he seems positively sober and almost sad.

"You left it exactly the way he did. I didn't even have to pick the lock." There is another long pause, but the tension is different this time. "How much time do you spend in there?"

"Enough. Answer my question. What were you doing in Cal's room?" His anger flares again.

"Hiding from you." She yells back at him. There is a shuffle of feet and a rustle of skirts. "Don't you dare touch me." The sharp sound of a slap rings in my ears.

"You little bitch." It is not the first time Mare and Maven have been violent with each other. Maven's transgressions are far more frequent than Mare's, but this is the first time I have witnessed him call her out for it. More rustling, more shuffling. The door opens just a bit before slamming shut again. I'm not done with you." Someone hits the ground, hard. "Why that room?" I hear her respond, but I can't make out the words. He must have thrown her away from the door. It is quiet for a long time, I can hear both of them, but the words are lost before they reach me. "Get up." I hear nothing. "Get. Up." A few moments later the door opens. Mare's face appears in the opening. The gray ends of her hair are visible again, no longer tucked into her curls as they had been. She looks no worse for wear, and I am grateful for it. She looks at where Cal and I stand as if she knows we are there.

The King pushes her through the door, Cal's hand twitches as she passes, my fingers go cold. Maven steps through after her as though they hadn't just had a heated argument and there is not a quickly vanishing dull gray splotch on his face where she struck him. He nods toward the squadron of guards who usher the court back inside the hall and close the doors.

"Summon a healer." He holds her hand as if to chain her to his side. Cal nudges my shoulder and nods his head up the stairs. I take the hint, and we start up the stairs, back on the mission.

* * *

"He put those fucking manacles back on her." Cal paces, like a large, angry animal, trapped, unable to move freely—protect the one he loves. I know that feeling; I don't envy him, even a little bit. In the space of a moment, he could destroy this room. It is a testament to his control that he is as calm as he is right now.

"How do you know?" I had seen the matching ugly bracelets, but I had no idea they held silent stone. I had never seen the manacles, but she told me about them. There are four in total; one for each wrist, and one for each ankle, made by Evangeline Samos. There was a rumor that in addition to the silent stone, fresh Arven blood runs through the hollow interiors. Any sensible person would think it too gruesome to be true. But I am acquainted with both the architect and the contractor and would put nothing past either. In fact, I would believe it if they told me that they had bled one dry for the singular purpose of jewelry. Mare will not last long tonight, with them on.

"I felt it when I touched her." My mind slips back to my fingers going cold. "We have to find the key too." I let my thoughts wander. The threat had been there all day. He expected her to be defiant and came prepared for it. I try to concentrate on the locked drawer in front of me. No matter how many times Mare showed me how to pick a lock, I will never be as good at it as she is. "We can't leave tonight." He is calmer now that he has had a moment to cool down, his words are slow and deliberate. He moves with purpose as he searches. Quick, but methodical, much more like himself than when his heart is involved. He is a good soldier; he would have cut himself off from what he is feeling in order to accomplish his objective. I look up.

"Why not?" I would think she would be even more anxious to go now that he has started to follow through on his threats, perhaps he will hand her over to the Lakeland Queen if she continues to resist him. I am no good at predicting the King's seemingly erratic moods and reactions, but then again, I don't sleep with him. I could never know the way his mind works. My quick skim of the journals Mare had me steal are dark and confusing. Frightening, really. He is a delicately crafted mess of black entropy.

"She planned to kill him. She can't do that with those manacles on." The closet muffles his voice. "My brother has no personality, no imagination." He is looking at a litany of shades of black and grey. Minimal variation except for the one dark red shirt tucked in behind a dress uniform. I had been in that closet this morning, solely for curiosities sake. Spies are always a bit nosy I suppose.

"Says the soldier to the slave." He pokes his head out of the closet, and I glance up, the drawer still stubbornly closed. He regards me for a moment considering my statement. I shrug and make my sixth attempt at opening this lock. "She could still do it. She might still do it, but she will be caught." Cal emerges from the closet with the smallest silver key I have ever seen. "Where was it?"

"In with the cufflinks." The only noise that fills the silence that settles in the room is clicking and scraping as I try in vain to open this lock. This morning, I got lucky and did it on the second try. This evening, no such luck, I have no idea how I did it. "I Haven't been in here since I was a little boy. It's different; cold, like no one, lives here." I watch his back as he really looks at the room for the first time. There are sparks in his hands as he flicks his wrists. "I'm going to do it."

"Is there a plan, or are we going in blind and half-cocked?" He turns to look at me. I have seen the look on his face before; I saw it when I told him of Anabel Lerolan's deceptions. There is a plan. There is a map, and he is already moving the pieces around in his head. He narrows his eyes, as if suddenly suspicious of me. The same look he had when we met, several weeks ago.

"Do those keys she gave you open the armory?" I pull out the key ring and toss them across the desk to him.

"They open everything expect this drawer and the manacles."

* * *

 **Maven's POV**

I stand before the doors of the Great Hall agitated and in no mood to be cordial. The music is already getting on my frayed nerves, and we have not even entered the ballroom. I am more likely to set fire to the next sycophant than pretend to care about whatever dribble trickles from their mouth. The former may even cheer me up for a moment. But as long as I hold Mare's hand, I cannot. The silent stone in her manacles hinders me as well. I let out an exasperated sigh and yank her closer, casting a sideways glance at her from the corner of my eye. Without the red mark scarring her face, she looks almost innocent tonight—much like the night of Queenstrial, but without all the ridiculous white powder and excessive eyeliner. I would love for her to smile, but that would be asking the impossible of her tonight.

"Look at me." She looks up immediately, more like a trained dog than the pit viper I know her to be. She lashed out at me today, repeatedly—I wouldn't say that I didn't deserve it, but I also will not tolerate being toyed with. She wears the consequences of her actions tonight. Regardless of the punishment, we both know she will do it again, I haven't broken her. Not yet. "If you behave yourself, I will take the manacles off. Step out of line, and you will beg me to forgive you. Understood?"

"Yes, your majesty." She bows her head as she says it and doesn't look back up at me. She's pouting. I put a finger under her chin and raise her face again.

"At least pretend to enjoy yourself tonight." Her sullen expression doesn't budge, nor does she deign to respond. I squeeze her hand, leaning in close, ignoring the way she shrinks away without actually moving; even though the attitude cuts through me like a dull blade. Until this morning, we had been making progress. I had even managed to make her laugh once or twice, but I lost all the ground I had covered this morning when I thought I lost her to the rebellion again. I had acted rashly, and she still refuses to forgive me for it. "Put on a good enough show, and I may reconsider killing Sentinel Tyros." She goes rigid, fingernails digging into my hand. I find her distress utterly satisfying. I raise our joined hands to eye level. "Now now, you wouldn't want to be responsible for the death of yet another—"

"I'll do as you ask. Please, don't hurt them." I study her, watching for signs of resolve, of a new plan forming behind her eyes. The rich, warm brown that normally swirls with life, is dark and muddy. I can't find anything in them.

"Where did you get this?" A delicate gold ring catches the light. She has never worn a ring before tonight.

"It was in the bow with the rest of the jewelry. I assumed it was a gift from you." The ring unsettles me. It is both familiar and not. I let the thought go, to be examined more closely another time. I signal to the guards to open the doors. Mare turns into me, placing her free hand on my arm and her head against my shoulder. The pose breaks every etiquette rule imaginable, but I allow it, even breaking one of my own by placing my free hand in my pocket. Flashbulbs go off in our faces the moment the doors are fully open. If Mare manages to look anything but miserable, the front page tomorrow morning will not show the King and his future Queen, making their grand entrance, but two people in love.

The only people in the room not quite managing to hide their contempt is the delegation from the Lakelands. I don't even notice them, until Mare whippers in my ear, pointing them out. Their whispering and sneering making her even more uncomfortable than both the silent stone and my vice-like grip on her hand. Her eyes shine with guilt as she watches them. I could comfort her; my threats having made her pliable—however short-lived that will be. But I don't. I choose instead to ignore her pain, let her wallow in the suffering she has caused.

All through dinner, I let my mind wander where it will. The Bloodtrial supersedes any other conversation topic. Most are too afraid to do anything other than sing Mare's praises. She tries not to look disgusted as she pushes food around her plate, never actually taking a bite. Until she gets used to the silent stone again, she won't eat anything; it will make her ill if she does. I let go of her hand for the first time in what feels like hours. The stone Is making me tired and queasy as well. I don't know what I expected her to do while powerless and in a room full of people who would see her tried for treason and sedition, but it almost disappoints me when she just folds her hands in her lap and does nothing with her newfound freedom.

In the lull between supplicants offering Mare and me their congratulations on her victory, I watch her, replaying the whole day in my head. For the first time since her poisoning, I woke up to an empty bed this morning. In that short time, I had grown accustomed to her being there; there was no light to cut through the dark, I couldn't find my way. I awoke angry and alone, the way I had every other day before she was there. I had punished Captain Nornus for letting her slip away, when in fact, it was that act that had broken the delicate truce between us.

I tried to reconcile before the Bloodtrial. I offered her the idea that I had overreacted to her disappearing out of fear that I was going to lose her today in the Bowl of Bones. She saw through it, knowing it was just an excuse and a flimsy one at that. I watched her kill my wife in the same manner in which she murdered my mother. Each had brought that end down upon themselves, but it still felt like a personal slight. She was sending me a message. For the rest of the day, we traded blows, and when my brother was reportedly seen in the city, I assumed the worst of her.

I know she misses him. She talks to him in her sleep, mumbling about there never being enough time, asking him to choose her. She was still trying to work through his betrayal, much like she was still trying to work through mine. Truth be told, now that my mother has less influence in my thoughts and Mare has been a constant stream of cold water on my temper, I miss my brother too. I can see the way my mother twisted things now. Cal's only crime had been being the older brother, that is until he took her from me and returned her hurt and betrayed—a sin for which I will never forgive him.

The realization comes quickly, every piece falling into place, from the moment she returned until now.

I push my chair back and offer her my hand. I lead her out to the middle of the floor. The conductor, cuts off the song mid-measure, waiting for instruction. A servant gives him my request.

"Do you remember the steps?" She gives me a slight nod. When the music starts, I step with her into the first turn. It takes her a moment, but soon recognition sparks in her eyes. The melody that floats through the air is the one my traitorous brother used to teach her to dance. "I know your secret." I watch what little color is left in her face drain away. She continues to dance as if nothing has changed, but her body is coiled like a spring, braced and ready for whatever might be next. I let the statement hang in the air, waiting for her to confirm or deny that there is a secret at all. But there is always a secret—always something to hide. That is the nature of shame. It drives us to lock away the worst admissions until they can be used to our advantage. That is why she showed me her worst compulsion, not because she wanted me to stop her, but because she wanted me to know that I made her do it.

"Which one?" She meets my gaze of her own volition for the first time since we left the gallery. How brazen of her to admit that there is more than one thing she is keeping from me.

"The one you are so desperate to keep from me." She leans in closer to me, laying her head against my chest as if she wants to be dancing with me as if there is nowhere she would rather be, no one she would rather be with.

"Is that so?" I continue to spin with her in my arms. She steps are just as clumsy as I remember them, but I have a feeling that it is only because she isn't confident. She is so graceful otherwise, now that she has been trained for battle. I nod, but she isn't looking at me. Her eyes are closed when I look down at her. A good show indeed. "I don't think you know anything." Her voice floats around above the melody. "I think, that you are fishing, waiting for me to entrap myself." I twirl her away from me and back. Her hair sprays out around her. "If you knew anything, you would have lead with it. You stopped playing games with me the day you married Iris."

"I suppose the game resumed the day you killed her." I expect her to start crumbling around the edges as I pick at the façade, but she seems calm enough. Her pulse is a little too quick, but mine is as well, the silent stone makes dancing quite tiresome. When the song ends, she drops into a deep curtsy but doesn't let go of my hand. I hold out the other, and she takes it, stepping in closer and clasping her hands around my neck. The maestro takes her hint to play something slow and light.

"A game it will be then." She twists a finger around one of my curls while we sway. I forget about everyone else in the hall. "You tell me what you think you know, and I will tell you how close you are to the truth." Her voice consumes me.

"And what do I get if I win?" She doesn't even hesitate.

"Me. All of me. I won't resist anymore. I will be yours." Her lips brush my ear as she whispers. In response, I pull her hair back over her shoulder and press my lips to her neck. There is nothing right and proper about the way my tongue glides over her skin for the entire court to see. "And if you fail, I will leave." I stop kissing her. "I will spend the rest of the year as far away from you as the borders will allow." She gives me a moment to let the words sink in. "Do you accept my terms?" I would never accuse Mare of being another stupid court girl. She has the same calculating and conniving mind as the long list of Norta's most talented daughters. Had she been raised Silver, I could only assume she would have rivaled my mother and left Evangeline Samos as nothing more than an afterthought, like smoke clearing the field following Queenstrial.

"I accept your terms." Only because to turn them down would be to show weakness. Furthermore, I have no intention of letting her leave, regardless of this game or the terms of our contract.

"You have until the end of this song to tell me the secret that I am so desperate to keep from you." I brush a curl back behind her ear brushing my fingers against her pallid cheek. She is clammy and a thin sheen of sweat coats her forehead. The dark circles haven't appeared under her eyes yet, so we have time.

"I know why you came back to me." She lays her cheek in my hand. I let my thumb tail over her lips.

"I already told you why I came back." She losses a little bit of her balance and falls against me. I pull her into me.

"You did, but you lied to yourself and to me." I watch her, again waiting for a reaction that will not come. "You didn't come back here, to me to honor our deal, or because you know what kind of pawn you are on my chessboard. You came here because it was the furthest you could go to get away from him. You're still in love with him, and that terrifies you and hurts you because he made his choice." Her gaze stays even; not giving away anything. "You went to his room today to get away from me because you also love me. You trade us back and forth, seeking comfort in whichever of us causes you the least amount of pain at any given time, because you are just as afraid of being alone." Her eyelashes flutter, but It could very well be the silent stone.

"There is some truth in some of that mess, but the truth that is there is not a secret. And it never was. I am still in love with Cal, and that does terrify me, just as the feelings I had cultivated for you terrify me." If I tried, I could feel her strength draining away. "You still have time if you would like to try again."

"No. I think that's enough for tonight. I should take you upstairs; relieve you of any notions you have of leaving until I am confident" I run my hand over the curve of her hip to rest on her abdomen. "that I will have an heir." She tries to pull away from me, but she is quite weak, and I have a good hold on her. "Be still, my darling; you'll only tire yourself out more quickly." I drop her waist and turn to lead her out of the hall.

"Wait. Please, Mav—Majesty." She sways, but keeps here balance, leaving her head bowed. I wait for her to speak. Her hands raise slowly to cover her face. "I can't. I'm going to be sick."

* * *

 **Mare's POV**

Is this how the world ends? In a spray of silver, a scream, and the steady vibration on rampaging feet.

As soon as his hands fall away, I fall too, the weight of the silent stone dragging me down. My hands slide across the floor as I try to push myself back up. The blood on my face is too warm, hot even.

I can't make myself look up. the memories of the last time flood through me like a violent tide. Last time, they failed. But this time, Maven is the only target and Cal would never miss, not when the stakes are so high. No one else would be so foolish. But, his recklessness might just save me one last time.

 _Stay safe, my King._


	17. Too Deep

**Hello, Lovelies!**

 **I have no wisdom for you tonight, just a couple words of warning-Language and Violence.**

 **Happy reading!**

The third balcony is a dark and dusty place. It has been years since anyone of any importance has been up here. There are oddly shaped swatches of abandoned table tops where the dust isn't quite as thick—evidence of clandestine affairs. It is the perfect perch from which to watch for the right moment to present itself.

I keep my eye trained on Maven. It's a more difficult venture than I anticipated with Mare standing next to him. It's like no time has passed at all. I slip backward in time, remembering those first few months. I let my mind wander over the night I met her and the way it felt when I caught her in the corridors after Queenstrial—how warm and soft she felt when I closed my arms around her, the way my conscience screamed when I handed her over to the Kingsguard, how sick I felt when my father promised her to Mavey.

When the music stops, it jars my senses back to the present. That attention is short-lived though, because the song that plays next makes my stomach turn. I retrain the barrel of my rifle on the dancefloor. I watch through the scope as they dance, heartsick and burning with jealousy at their proximity. I a perfect world, that would be me dancing with my future Queen. As there is no chance of me taking a shot at him while he holds my heart in his hands, I retreat again into my memories, letting the music guide me to the events that lead up to our first kiss.

 _Since we returned from the Stilts I had been looking for a reason—no, an excuse to touch her, to hold her. I can't explain the desire, nor do I want to. For whatever reason, this girl is under my skin and I don't hate it. This morning, she gave me that reason, I am going to teach her how to dance. Had it not been for the commotion in the training ring, I would have spent the majority of the day laying out my plans; everything has to be perfect, or I will lose my chance. Evangeline's challenge caught my attention, pulling me out of my own head. The stakes were higher than she knew but would still play in favor of House Samos if Red blood was spilled. I am on edge for the entire match, watching the girls trade blows, almost wishing that Mare's untamed lighting would finish the job it started in the arena. When Evangeline drew blood, I lost it; reprimanding her for nearly committing treason and trying to kill the one person in the world I thought that I could love._

 _For all the confidence I have, where Mare is concerned, I can't help but question and second guess myself. It wasn't until Lunch that I knew that there was no turning back. The news that I would be taking a legion to the front landed hard, and she was clearly upset about it. It shook me to my core to think that she might care for me too. We differed on opinions and often clashed over the war, but above all, I respect her principles and conviction no matter how misguided I might think she is. The revelation fans the flame that burns inside me whenever she is near._

 _I wait until nightfall when the palace is quiet before making my way to her room. My pulse quickens as I get closer and the fire within me burns a little hotter, a little brighter at the thought of her face. When I finally come to her door, I have pause to regain some semblance of composure before knocking._

 _I don't want to admit to myself what is driving this desire—why I want to make this mistake. For nineteen years, I have been conditioned to do what was best for my King and my country. I was taught to think in one direction and to set aside my own desires for the greater good of the nation. I had never given in to a selfish want. All my indiscretions could be justified if discovered. I followed directions and became the man that the king intended for his oldest son. That is, until a chance meeting pulled this small Red girl out of the shadows and into the firelight._

 _I have always been jealous of my brother; the second son, never truly destined to rule. A careless boy, who could do what he pleased within reason. But now that jealousy runs deeper, a bitter flood of bad blood whenever I see him with her. She had been promised to him for political reasons and I will spend the rest of my life watching her love him instead of me._

 _I draw a deep, steadying breath and knock lightly on the door. When it opens, surprise lights her eyes. I suppress a smile. There is no way I can let her see my delight at seeing her standing before me in her pajamas._

" _Cal. What do you need?" I shrug, unable to keep a whole smile from my face. Her hair is loose around her face and the grey ends of her locks float around her shoulders. I push away the thought of running my fingers through it._

" _Evangeline almost killed you in the ring today." The words feel clumsy in my mouth. My confidence falters._

" _So?" She sounds defensive._

" _So, I don't want her to kill you on the dance floor." I was trying for a light tone, but the words don't sound quite right in my ears and I chide myself for it. I had imagined this conversation going differently._

" _Did I miss something? Are we going to be fighting at the ball?" I can't help but laugh even though I know that she is not joking. At this point I would not blame her for believing that we would fight at a ball, after all, she arrived on Queenstrial day and it has been one battle after another for her since she got here. I lean against the door frame, careful not to cross the threshold of her bedroom. We both know that I should not be here. I should not be courting the girl that would be my brother's wife, but here I stand hoping for a chance to quell my desire before I leave for the front._

" _If you know how to dance properly, you won't have to." I give her a moment to consider before adding "I'm a surprisingly good teacher." I let my smile widen just a little._

 _I don't miss the shiver that runs through her when I hold my hand out to her. I watch her fight the same internal battle that I do. We both know that this is not something that we should be doing. Her hand is shaking when she finally takes mine. My anxiety melts away as I pull her through the door and down the hall._

 _I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I move the sitting room furniture out of the way. The pale moonlight makes the rosy flush in her cheeks look even more delicate. She almost looks Silver but that is not what I want. I prefer her without the makeup she is forced to wear to further the lies of the Queen. Seeing her without it tonight stirs my blood. I set a speaker in the middle of the floor._

" _Can that thing teach me how to dance?" In her voice has the sassy spark that ensnared me on the road outside the tavern. I shake my head._

" _No, but it will help." The music starts and I tap my foot along with the light and playful melody enjoying both the music and the company. When I see her toes start to move to the beat, I know that my plan will be a success. I watch her for a few moments as she struggles to remember the steps. Lady Bolson did not teach her well. And I again cannot help but laugh._

" _Don't worry about that, just keep moving." I show off for her little bit—spinning and making myself look foolish as I hum. I am trying to make her feel a bit more comfortable. When the song ends, something in her changes; apprehension crosses her face._

" _This probably isn't the best idea, Cal" I tilt my head to one side feigning innocence and confusion while my happiness wavers under the surface._

" _Why's that?"_

" _I'm not even supposed to be alone with Maven. I don't know if dancing with you in a dark room is exactly okay." I hear the uncertainty in her voice. I stay as nonchalant as I can. If this is not a big deal to me, maybe it will not be to her either. But that lovely blush is rising in her cheeks and I feel a more than a little crestfallen that my plan is starting to crumble before my eyes. I cover the feelings with a laugh and a shrug._

" _The way I see it, I am doing my brother a favor." Inspiration strikes, and I grin broadly. A Challenge. "Unless you want to step on his feet all night" The music starts again, a softer, slower melody. Now is my chance._

" _I have excellent footing thank you very much!" She crosses her arms over her chest defiantly. Her fire is back and she is more sure of herself. I reach for her hand, gently so I do not push her too quickly._

" _Maybe in the ring. The dance floor, not so much." She watches my feet as I pull her across the floor. It catches me off guard when she stumbles into me. My smile is full and genuine; I am happy to have her in my arms, however briefly it will be. "This is the same timing as most of the songs you will hear at the ball. It's a simple dance, easy to learn."_

" _I'll find a way to mess it up."_

" _You might." My voice to quiet as I admire her in the moonlight. She is small, but her strength is almost a marvel. Even when she seems to be coming apart, there is an understated power that anyone who isn't looking for it would miss. I gaze down at her face hoping that she can't tell how much I feel for her. I keep myself guarded around her for a reason; I could not imagine the ramifications of acting on my feelings for this girl. I should resign myself to the life I have been groomed for since birth, It is my duty to be a prince and a soldier above all. Tonight, however, I would risk my commission and my crown for her. "Maven fixed you up nicely." I do not like the bitterness in my voice._

" _It was Julian, Julian and Sarah Skonos." I clench my jaw at the name and it does not escape her notice. "Why don't you two like her?" The question is simple enough, but I struggle with the answer._

" _Maven has his reasons, good reasons." I stumble over the words. "Is not my story to tell. And I don't dislike Sarah; I just don't. . . I don't like thinking about her." I keep dancing, unsure if this is something that I can share with Mare. It is difficult for me to talk to anyone about, and what would the consequences of telling her be?_

" _Why? What has she done to you?"_

" _Not to me." I sigh. Here goes nothing. "She grew up with Julian and my mother." My voice drops and nearly breaks as I start to think about how much I hated not having my mother as I grew up. "She was her best friend, and when she died, Sarah did not know how to grieve. Julian was a wreck, but Sarah. . . " I can't do it. I stop dancing slowly as not to seem too weak in front of her. When the last echoes of the music float away I speak again. "I don't remember my mother." The edge in my voice startles me a little. "I wasn't even a year old when she died. I only know what my father tells me, and Julian. And neither of them like to talk about her at all."_

" _I'm sure Sarah could tell you about her if they were best friends." Her words cut through me. She doesn't know._

" _Sarah Skonos can't speak, Mare."_

" _At all?" I try to make my voice as even as I can when I speak. I remind myself of my father. I want to be gentle and not spook her too badly, but the subject is a tough one and when it comes to my mother, I have very tenuous control over my own emotions._

" _She said things she shouldn't have, terrible lies, and she was punished for it." I watch as the horrifying realization dawns on her. I feel a twinge in my chest as her opinions of who we are confirmed in her mind yet again._

" _What did she say?" With Mare's innocent question the dam that controls the flow of my emotions breaks. I go cold and I step away from her to keep her from getting caught up in the flood that runs through me. I pick up the speaker and put it in the pocket of my jacket. The silence stretches out between us, the sound of my pounding heart fills my ears and I wonder if she can hear it too._

" _I don't want to talk about her anymore." My breathing has become heavy and I can no longer look at Mare as much as I want to stand there and memorize her face. I can't stand the threat of her seeing what I keep pressed down and out of sight. I panic at the thought of her seeing everything that I am and it changing the look in her eyes when we catch ourselves looking at each other. My eyes flick to her face again and something in her softens. I see pity in her eyes. I can't stand it._

" _Okay." It takes everything inside me not to run for the door. My steps are quicker than I intended and I pause at the door and take a deep breath. I turn back to her fighting to sound as though I was not affected by what passed between us._

" _Practice your steps. Same time tomorrow." And with that, I step into the refuge of the hall. I stood there for a few seconds just on the other side of the door catching my breath._

" _What the Hell am I doing?" Mare gives voice to my thoughts before I hurry off towards my bedroom._

 _That night and every night for the next week, I dance with her in my dreams both sleeping and waking. Thoughts of her became a reprieve and I allow my mind to wander to her often, imaging things not as they are or could be, but as I want them to be._

 _Tomorrow night is the ball, and Mare has improved much over the last few nights, she is a quick study. I feel a small amount of pride not just at having my excuse to spend time with her, but also at how well she is doing under my instruction. But, tonight her head seems to be somewhere else and I feel childish wanting her full attention on me. Out of spite, I dip her to startle her back into the moment. It works and I pull her even closer._

" _Sorry, I thought you were ready for it." Her laugh sounds a little forced; I assume that she is thinking about Maven while she dances with me. The jealousy provoked by that thought stokes the fire within me._

" _No, my fault, mind wandered off again." I adjust so that I can look into her soft brown eyes. They remind me of melted chocolate. Flowing and alive with a deliciousness that cannot be described._

" _Still worried about the ball?"_

" _More than you know."_

" _One step at a time, that is the best you can do." I allow myself to laugh as I step us back into a simpler pattern. I relax just a little as I ease her back into conversation. "I know its hard to believe, but I wasn't always the best dancer either." My efforts earn me a smile._

" _How shocking. I thought princes were born with the ability to dance and make idle conversation." I laugh again. I cannot recall having ever felt this way._

" _Not me. If I had my way, I would be in the garage or the barracks, building, and training. Not like Maven. He is twice the prince I will ever be." I can't read her face as I hasten our steps in time with the music._

" _But he will only ever be a prince. And you will be king." Her voice is low and there is a sadness in it that I do not understand, but I also hear it in my own voice when I reply._

" _Sometimes I wish it did not have to be that way." As I dance with Mare, I am consumed by her. There is nothing in the world entire other than her. I burn for her. A flame that flickers when I catch her eye, that flares when she speaks, the engulfs me when I see her with my brother. It is a flame that I have no control over no matter how I may want to bend it to my will. I blame my pounding heart on the exertion of dancing even though I know that it is nowhere close to true._

" _Are you really going to go with the legion?" her voice shakes with a hint of fear._

" _A general's place is with his men."_

" _A prince's place is with his princess." My heart leaps. "With Evangeline." The addition is rushed, but my heart falls back into its place all the same. I barely notice that we have stopped dancing. I feel the heat rise between us. I struggle internally to put myself back in check, but I am failing at it._

" _She'll be alright, I think. She's not exactly attached to me, and I will not miss her either." My breathing has become ragged and a pink flush has spread over Mare's neck and face. She will not look up at me. I place my fingers under her chin and gently guide her up to meet my eyes. "I will miss you, Mare." I watch the conflict rage behind her eyes. She is also struggling and there Is nothing I can do except hope that she gives in. She doesn't and steps out of my arms._

" _I can't." There is a torrent of emotion in those two little words. Her eyes shine with unshed tears._

 _I know that I should not—that it would be a betrayal of my brother, my father, and my crown, but this is something that I would rather not regret as I march into battle. I reach for her, taking her hand, pulling her closer to me than we have ever been before._

 _I kiss her._

 _Her lips are as soft as they look and even softer than I had imagined.I fear that they will be bruised beneath my insistence, but I do not hold back. Neither does she. The fire within me grows. If I could, I would freeze this moment in time. I would never let her go._

I let go of the memory as the song ends. The world opened up and swallowed us just a few days later. I thought I would never get over her betrayal. I understood it, of course, I understood it, how could I not? But the first night she came to me, I opened my arms to her and I instead wanted her to forgive me for being blind and stupid, for not seeing what was right in front of me. And now I can only hope that she will forgive me for my obstinance and for not choosing her when I had the chance.

I reset my site and peer through the scope again. My blood boils. I watch them from between the filigree points instead. Mare looks pale, and her feet are clumsy. The silent stone will overtake her soon. I get ready. I wonder for a few moments If this is the extent of what I would do to protect the woman I love and our child. The threat issued by Mare's father and brothers the night I brought her home from Archeon the first time prickles in the back of my mind. Her massive war-scarred brothers had stuffed themselves onto the couch on either side of me, effectively trapping me between them while Her Father, Daniel stared down at me, leaning heavily on his cane. I was terrified then; I am starting to understand now.

The second Maven steps away from Mare I line up my shot. The last attempt caught him in the neck, but the healers were quick in their work. The Irral silk had failed, I won't. It will be a head shot. Quick and painless—more than he deserves. The recoil hits my shoulder hard.

The suppressor on the muzzle keeps the reverb from echoing around the cathedral-like room. In the chaos, no one will be able to determine where the shot came from. I am supposed to slip out into the gardens in the confusion. I am supposed to trust Dashiell and Evangeline to get Mare out safely. But I don't think I can.

I watch her fall with him as if it is happening in slow motion. Bright silver blood spatters over her face and almost glitters against the scarlet backdrop of her dress like a macabre work of art. I sit there longer than I should, waiting for someone to come for her; it's a pair of Kingsguards that help her to her feet and escort her out of the ballroom. I pull the mask down over my face and abandon my hunter's blind.

* * *

 **Mare's POV**

My stomach turns as the two masked Kingsguards help me through the deserted corridors. The chaos from the first floor bounces off the walls, assaulting my senses. If I close my eyes its almost like the long line of Calore Kings that line the walls are screaming. Some of them are angry, others and mourn, but most of them are happy that their youngest son has been released from the hold of Elara.

I bite back bile, swallowing back the acrid, burning sick. It's the smell of the blood that pushes me past nausea. It is a hot metallic smell that causes my eyes to water. I hate it.

"Where are you taking me?" I don't expect an answer. I remember how this goes, I can scream all I want, but they are under orders not to say anything to me. I don't have the energy to provoke them tonight.

"It's protocol, my lady; to ensure the safety of the heir." If there were any heat left in my body, I would go cold. Since my blood already feels like ice and my heart is working too hard to push the sludge through my veins; I simply stop. I stop everything—walking, breathing, holding myself up. I anticipate the hard tile against my knees, but the Kingsguards that are holding my arms catch me before I hit the floor. A third guard rounds the corner ahead of us and stops cold. The face with no eyes appraises us.

"Release her." My head snaps up. Even through the mask, I recognize his voice. I also recognize the anger in it. From his perspective, it must look like they are mistreating me.

"Sir?" The guard that holds my left arm sounds confused. A man with no rank of house insignia on his uniform is issuing orders. The authority behind the command is the only thing giving the oblivion pause.

"Release Miss Barrow. Now" It momentarily baffles me that the guardsmen don't recognize an order from their former commander. In another life, he would have led them into battle as part of the Shadow Legion. They would have been infamous, and Cal would have done his father proud. The thought is sour. In that life, Elara would have found a way to ensure Cal was killed on the battlefield. We would have lost each other anyway.

I look at the place where his eyes should be. He acknowledges me with a slight tilt of his head. I give a small slow nod. I plant my feet and wrench myself away from my captors. The one on the right manages to grab my wrist. I swing him into the oblivion on my left. At the same second the two men collide a fireball engulfs both of them. Their screams add to the cacophony.

"Don't touch me; you'll need your strength." Cal produces a small silver key.

"How many?

"All four." He nods and makes quick work of removing the manacles. When the last one clatters to the floor, he sweeps me up into his arms and starts down the hall with me. I am shaky and nauseous from the stone and the still pungent smell of blood on my hands now mixed with burning hair and seared flesh. "Where is Dash?"

"Somewhere in the palace with Evangeline. They were supposed to get you out—but if you want something done to your satisfaction, you had better do it yourself." I kick off the heeled shoes.I imagine him giving me that absurd wink that annoys me so much, but I love

"Put me down." I assume that the look he gives me through the mask is disapproving, but he stops and sets me down. I put my hand on the wall, searching for any line that is reinforced enough to carry the amount of current I am trying to gather without melting the wiring before I am finished. I can't develop enough energy on my own; my chest starts to hurt from the effort. I'll have to use what is already running through the palace. The lights flicker. I am having trouble channeling; the effects of the silent stone are wearing off too slowly.

I take a few deep breaths and make a reckless choice. I pull everything I can into me as quickly as I can in one massive burst, letting it take the last of my strength with it. I sway as I hear the telltale whine of the electrical grid evaporate into the ether. My knees knocking together as we are plunged into darkness. The emergency lights flicker to life almost immediately, turning Whitefire an eerie shade of red. I brace my arm against the wall. I can smell burning insulation. The wiring in this section of wall will be damaged beyond repair and will likely catch fire later.

I let go of the wall. I am too weak to stand on my own, but I will be damned before I let Cal carry me out of this crisis like a helpless princess. I try to shake off the dizziness, but it is useless. Moving makes my nausea worse. I can feel the bile in the back of my throat. I lean forward bracing myself against the wall once more.

Cal pulls his mask off. His expression is troubled, but there is fear in his eyes, a look I have seen only a few times, in the throne room when Elara was in his head, and every time my life was threatened, starting with Queenstrial. I saw it in the Bowl of Bones, in Cesare's Square, in Corvium; and every time, I feel the same tugging, squeezing, the bottom is about to drop out feeling behind my ribs. Until recently, I hadn't thought about it enough to identify it. But now, now I recognize it for what it is; guilt. Guilt that the man looking at me lost everything because I did a sloppy job picking his pocket. I know he doesn't see it that way, but it doesn't stop me from feeling guilty for letting him love me.

I double over, intense pain radiates out in every direction from my abdomen. I can hear my pulse in my ears and feel it behind my eyes. I press both hands into a spot below my stomach and to the right. I don't know if the pressure actually helps, but I follow my instincts and press as hard as I can.

"I need Larissa. I didn't see her at the reception." My jaw is clenched, and I have to push the words out from between my teeth as I look up at him. "Something is wrong, Cal." I watch the gray drain away from his face, leaving behind a ghostly pale, and blank expression. I have seen this before too, Cal trying to block everything out so he can think with his head instead of his heart. When his eyes harden, I know that he has worked everything out.

"Are you going to let me help you, or are we doing this the hard way?" His voice betrays nothing of what he feels—soldier mode. I glare at him, silently admitting that I am damned. He gives a quick nod and pulls his mask back on before picking me up again. I tuck my face into his chest. "Hold on, Mare. I've got you."

"I trust you. I always have." No one questions us as the faceless Kingsguard carries me through the crowded corridors at a brisk pace. I bite my lips to keep them closed and hold back whatever is swirling in my stomach as he jostles me around. I squeeze my eyes shut in hopes that not seeing the blurred color will help quell the nausea. I don't open them again until the only sound is Cal's footsteps echoing across the stone floor and walls. "why did you bring me down here?"

'Larissa and Sentinel Tyros were arrested while we were...otherwise engaged." He sets me down so I am sitting on a step about halfway down the spiral staircase that leads to the holding cells inside Whitefire. I immediately put my head between my knees. "Stay here." A gloved hand caresses my back as Cal descends the stairs. The brutal ringing in my ears prevents me from keeping track of him after he disappears around the first curve. I count out the seconds in my head. If he isn't back in two minutes, I am going after him. My racing heart makes it difficult to keep time.I try to stand, fighting the dizzy lightness in my head. I have to blink several times to clear the black spots and quick bursts of light from my vision. My knuckles turn white from gripping the handrails and I have to watch my feet as I step down, otherwise my violent lack of equilibrium will send me sprawling down the limestone steps. I hear a throat clearing and look up too quickly, stumbling onto what could be mistaken for the wall if it weren't so warm, Cal's arms close around me. "Can't even take good advice, can you?" I start to shake my head, but the dizziness makes it impossible. I rest my forehead on his shoulder and groan. I feel him laugh a little. "It looks like Dash and Eve got to them first." He pauses for just a moment. "Are you ready, or do you need a minute?"

"Sooner is better than later, I think." Now that we are away from the chaos, He is much more gentle with me. There is still urgency in his steps, but he is actively trying to keep me still. We emerge from the palace into a crowd of evacuees. They part as a faceless Sentinel carries the King's mistress and most feared woman in the kingdom through the crush of people. I inwardly lament that I could have made it through the crowd unnoticed if I were able to walk on my own, now e will have to disappear again. "We are too visible. I don't like this."

"I know. I'll protect you. Close your eyes." I can barely hear him over the ringing in my ears and I don't close my eyes. I watch the courtiers crane their heads to get a good look at where I am being taken. I'm some of them have designs on murder while the others just need the fresh gossip. Everyone saw me kill the Queen during the Bloodtrial, but what would knowing where I was whisked off to after the King's assassination be worth to any of the sides in the kaleidoscope of confusion that will be left in the power vacuum. We pass the edge of the crowd and Cal dips his head. "Get ready to vanish; three...two...one." There are several flashes of light, a low rumble builds in the air and I can feel it in his arms. Cal takes off at a run in the direction of the forgotten garden. He takes a circuitous route through the outbuildings and gardens walls. It is no small feat that I don't pass out in his arms. I try to keep my gaze focused on the palace, but it appears to be moving, so I shut my eyes as Cal had requested. He doesn't stop until we are on the far side of the grounds. "Mare, I'm going to set you down on the wall." My head rolls in time with my stomach. "Mare? Look at me." He pulls his mask off again and tosses it aside. "You look awful." I watch him jump the fence.

"That's exactly what you are supposed to say." He smirks as he lifts me down off the wall.

"Awfully beautiful." There is my wink.

"Nice save, stud." As he pushes into the willow grove, I forget all about the bedlam we left behind. We are far from out of danger, and we should be alert and hyper-aware of everything around us, but for a few seconds, He is the only thing I can see. I should tell him how much I love him, but I can't make the words come out. I look up at him. He is already looking at me.

"I know. Be still and let Larissa work." He sits On the edge of the fire bowl with me balanced on his lap.

"What happened to her?" Larissa sounds concerned, but Cal an I can't tear our eyes away from each other.

"She took down the entire power grid for Whitefire, including the reserves in one burst." He sounds mildly impressed.

"Damn." I would know Evangeline's sneer anywhere. "Not that it matters since you blew half of it up."

"Eve? Shut up." He talks to her like they could be friends one day. I see movement out of the corner of my eye and snap my head in toward gently swaying willow whips, suddenly terrified that Maven had survived again. Quick flashes of oozing silver and purplish bits of something too gross to think about dance through my mind. But It is only Clariese. I exhale slowly. Larissa's hands are cold on my face, and the symptoms are subsiding quickly.

"Is he okay?" there is a hush to my voice that I do not recognize. It sounds agonized.

"He is in distress but will be fine as soon as I get you fixed up." She holds her tongue between her teeth as she is focused. I catch sight of Dash. He paces nearby.

"How is she?" Larissa spares him a glance.

"Her blood pressure is dangerously high and she is bleeding internally." There is tension in every one of Cal's muscles. His face is lined with concern. I notice how much he has grown up over the last year. He is not quite the way I imagined him in my fever dream, but he is well on his way. It is rare for me to think about the way he looks, my attraction to him is so much more than that, but it strikes me how good looking he is now and how handsome he will be in a few short years. That feeling of falling takes hold of me again. I surrender to it. He stays quiet, letting Larissa work uninterrupted. She is quick in her work and within minutes, I feel Like myself again and I want nothing more than to run. To run fast and far and never look back. As soon as Larissa releases me I wrap my arms around Cal's neck, burying my face in the sent of burning pine and dark, feather-soft hair.

"You don't have to say it, I already know." His hand gets caught in my now tangled curls. He is getting better at guessing how I feel. "You are way too conspicuous in that dress. Go change; I'll wait right here." It takes me too long to move. I am relieved that the three of us are thus far unscathed and I don't want to let him go. "Now who is clinging?" The chide is playful.

"Hush." When I stand, Evangeline tosses a backpack at me roughly. It hits me squarely in the stomach. "Thanks, Evangeline." There is no love lost between us. She steps closer, looking down at me.

"I am still your better and you will address me in a manner befitting my station." She grips my upper arm and leads me away as she speaks in low tones.

"My apologies." I yank my arm out of her grasp and curtsey for her. "Thank you, Your Royal Highness, Princess Bitch." I don't bother to keep my voice low. I cast a look back at cal as I stalk away from Evangeline. He is hiding a smile behind his hand.

As soon as I am dressed, the blood cleaned from my face and my hair is hidden under an oversized hood, and Cal is no longer in uniform, our little envoy sets off. I don't think it is a great idea that we all be seen together, so I insist on moving through the city in pairs to meet later at our safe house. It is too dangerous for Cal and me to be seen together, In his stead, he entrusts me to Dash and I insist that he take Larissa, leaving Clariese and Evangeline to walk the streets together. Clarisse doesn't look pleased but says nothing.

In all the chaos, It is easier to move through the city than I thought. The dusk does a fair job of hiding Dash and I. The city is on lockdown, no one in or out until There is someone to blame for the death of the King and the destruction of Whitefire. I keep my head down, being careful not to make contact with anyone. We are the first to make it to the old Jacos house. It hasn't changed since the last time I was here. Everything is still coated in white sheets and a thick layer of dust. What isn't shrouded is any one of a hundred shades of yellow, each one in various states of fade or grime. I busy myself pacing while I wait.

"Dash? What about Kyra?" I feel awful for not thinking of her before we left. I never said I was great at being a friend, but I all but abandoned her.

"She took your warning and ran with it. She was outside the city before the party started." I breathe a sigh of relief. I hadn't cost that family a second daughter.

Tyros and Evangeline arrive next making the silence tense. Every noise that isn't Cal and Larissa makes my chest burn. It is well after sundown and the storms have finally cleared when they make it safely inside. I watch Evangeline roll her eyes and huff over Cal's shoulder as he convinces himself that I wasn't hurt while I was out in the city.

"You two are grossing me out with all this love crap. Just bang and start hatting each other already like every other self-respecting couple." I know that powerful Silvers rarely married for the love of one another; they marry for the love of power and money. From what I witnessed, Silver spouses generally didn't even like each other, let alone legitimately care about the other's well-being. I push away thoughts of what life with Maven would have been like. Cal shifts just enough to give Evangeline a rude hand gesture That would have been more at home in the stilts than in the home one of the high houses of Norta, no matter how far into disrepair it has fallen. She scoffs in mocking hurt as if wounded by her former betrothed. "You're fawning over her like she's carrying your child. It's gross." Everyone in the room turns to look at her. The silence is long and thick. "What?" there is a short pause before realization dawns on her face. "No. Seriously? I hate both of you. Even more, than I already did." She stomps off down the hall towards the kitchen. "What's the plan to get out of this Hellhole?" I place my hand on Cal's arm to keep his temper in check; his mom has always been a hard subject for him and I won't let Evangeline stick a salty finger in that particular wound. I lean in close.

"She means the city. She hates it here." I sound more confident than I feel in my little white lie. I pull away from him and sit down on a step. I guide him until he sits down between my knees. I press my thumbs into the base of his neck. He is like warm wax in my hands as I knead the tension out of his neck and shoulders. "You took care of me today, so tonight, you are mine."

"Yeah?" He looks up at me and blinks a couple of times a slight glimmer sparkles in the honey of his eyes. I nod. He turns his attention back to the group, but doesn't bother speaking up enough for Evangeline to hear."I think we should sit tight for a couple of days, keep an eye on what happens with all the major players."

"They will expect the assassin to flee, staying put will hide us fairly effectively, provided that Lady Samos can be trusted." It's Tyros who speaks. I keep my mouth shut.

"I vouch for her. " No one moves. "If anyone else has suggestions, I am open to them." No one says anything. "Decision made. We stay put for a couple of days." I get up and start up the stairs as everyone starts to disperse. Cal follows, but I stop him at the top of the stairs.

"Go get some food and take a shower. Come find me later." I walk away from him without another word. I feel a small twinge as his hand trails down my arm. I feel his eyes on me as I walk down the hall. I peek in all the rooms as I pass by them. I choose the big one at the end of the hall. I get to work removing dust covers and opening windows. It smells like mothballs and old lady in here, which in my experience are the same smell. It is nothing like Coriane's bedroom.

Cal joins me much sooner than I anticipated. His hair is wet and I am still beating the dust out of some pillows. He coughs.

"Why this one?" I keep myself busy on the far side of the room, looking at everything except him. I focus on the peeling and faded wallpaper. It's just to distract myself from my smoldering attraction to the half-naked man in my peripheral vision.

"I thought it might be weird for you to spend the night with me in your mom's room." It is growing steadily warmer in here despite the cool breeze blowing in through the open windows. I had lit a few of the antique oil lamps, so the lights are soft and barely noticeable through the slightly ajar shutters.

"Valid point." When I glance over at him, he is watching me closely, almost like he is studying the way I move; if there were more light, he would see how it makes me blush. He has always looked at me like that. I catch him every so often, even more so in the time we spent apart in Peidmont. His gaze shifts down to the floor. I turn away. "Mare?" His voice is softer now.

"Hmmm." I don't look up. I am still making myself look busy.

"What's wrong?" He sounds a little closer now. When I turn around, he is right there, within reach, wearing only a fluffy yellow towel. I peer up at him.

"Nothing."My voice is small.

"Liar." He teasingly pulls at one of my matted curls. "I know you better than that. Something is bothering you." He lifts my chin with two fingers. "Tell me. Please?"

"You won't get mad? " I take a deep breath. "Why do you want to know what the major players are doing if you are going to disappear with me?"

"Mare." He sounds tired. We have both had a long day, and an argument will only serve to make it longer. All I want is to fall asleep with him, but I just opened a door that I can't close. I expect him to be exasperated with me for questioning his resolve., Instead, he lifts me up onto the bed and stands in front of me. "It's not a light switch; I cant just turn away from an entire life of conditioning in one day."

"Can you do it? Can you walk away from all of this? The lines of his chest are very distracting, but I manage.

"I want to be with you. You two mean everything to me." His hands are in my hair, and his face is very close to mine. If I lift my head, I could kiss him and table this discussion until tomorrow, but I give myself a mental shake and press on.

"I know it's what you want, but can you do it? Can you stand back and watch someone else step into your birthright? Can you—?"

"Mare, stop." He kisses me. "Do you know what I have wished for my entire life?" I know the answer, but he doesn't give me a chance to say it. "A family. A real one. Not..." He lets the sentence die on his lips. One day, he will tell me what his childhood was like, but that day is not today. "I am so in love with you; I can't make sense of anything else. I can do it, as long as I have you."

"You have me—us, you have us." I tug on the edges of the towel, pulling him onto the bed with me before tossing it away.


	18. Then, The Morning Comes

**Happy Reading!**

 **Mare's POV**

Thump thump...Thump thump...Thump thump...

The steady rhythm convinces me not to open my eyes. It soft and gentle, a compliment to the deep rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

Thump thump...Thump thump...

 _Don't move, don't breathe or the moment will be gone before it happens._

Thump thump...

Rustling sheets; a quiet sleepy sigh. A warm hand pressed against my skin. The smell of burning pine.

"Good morning." He is still half asleep. The shutters are closed, and the battery in the clock probably died years ago., so I have no idea what time it is, nor do I actually care. I don't want to think and pop the bubble of warmth and relative safety. _Don't move, don't breathe or the moment will be gone before it happens._ The same thought echoes around in my head. It's not for me, it's for him. I can't be happy, the sky falls when I'm happy, but him? It could be raining blood around him, and he would find a way to be okay so long as I'm with him.

"No, not yet." The tiredness makes the longing in my voice more pronounced. Cal runs his fingers over my side. It tickles, but I don't react. I know he is amused; I can see his expression without opening my eyes.

"Then go back to sleep." I pull a finger down his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. I would never say it out loud, especially to him, but I am relieved and overjoyed that he is mine. I have no frame of reference for how I feel because I have never been this content before. I don't dare call it happy.

"Don't tell me what to do." I nuzzle my face against his soft, smooth skin. Cal tenses; he is ticklish, but only in one spot, which happens to be where my nose brushes against him.

"Fine, be awake. See if I care." I like it when he teases me, yet another thought I would never commit to words. I wonder what would happen if I just let my guard down enough to give voice to the things I hold back out of fear. I dismiss it, If I don't say it, it can't hurt me later.

"You care." My hair catches in the stubble on his jawline when he kisses the top of my head.

"I do indeed." He yawns. I let sleep take me back under.

Like the night before, my dreams are violent and bloody. Death. Not as the finite end of life, but a person. A black ethereal creature, seemingly made from the smoke of the battlefield. I think I conjured it from one of the books of old legends in Maven's Library. A Reaper—The Reaper. The eternal collector of souls, balancer of scales, and keeper of the final gate, the gate from which no one returns. It looks vaguely human from where I stand, with a long-hooded cloak that billows in the non-existent wind. If I squint hard enough, it almost seems solid, but not quite. If black soot could glitter Death would sparkle.

It isn't the presence of The Reaper that bothers me, it is the ghostly pearlescent faces of everyone I have ever met starring at me with vacant eyes that are too big for their faces. Each one standing in the torso of their broken, bleeding, and burned bodies.

Shade's is the first face I find in the haunted crowd. There is anger in his eyes, blame for letting him die when it should have been me. It was me Elara was after. Me that took him from Farley and Clara. I can't stand it, I can't hold his tortured gaze. Gisa stands with him, looking down at her hands, both of them mangled, swollen—fingers curled in on themselves like claws that will tear me apart. I find each of my brothers and my parents, Farley and Clara, Kilorn, each of the Newbloods, even Will Whistle.

I want to run, but my feet won't move. A feeling of impending disaster invades every inch of my being. I won't survive the onslaught of spectral attack.

Standing on Either side of The Reaper are two men. Both tall with dark hair and strong features. The one on the right is broad with warm honey eyes, the other is lean with eyes the color of the winter sky. Cal and Maven. I look back and forth between them. Cal has no expression, but Maven—he smirks as if he is the only one who has everything figured out like he still carries the burden of being the smartest person in the room. But as he watches me, his expression changes; I would call it sympathy if I thought him capable of feeling something so human. He reaches up slowly and pulls the hood back from The Reaper's face.

I stare into my own eyes.

Cold, dark, sunken things ringed in purple bruising. As I cry out, the other me throws her head back in cruel laughter. I press my hands to my ears, but the joyless laugh rings in my head. It is Maven's voice that cuts through the clamor.

"Mare," A shiver runs down my spine. I pull my hands away from my ears, they are stained with blood, both red and silver. "You could have prevented all of this, had you just accepted the status quo." I look up into his eyes and find no viciousness there. "You would have died on the lines like a good little girl, and all of us would've survived."

"Not all of them are dead." I sound small and pleading, but Maven's voice is only in my head, I just needed to think it.

"They will be; including my nephew. You'll kill him too." A searing pain as if someone is ripping apart the walls of my abdomen tears across my body.

I wake with a jolt, cleaving myself out of Cal's embrace. He reacts as quickly as I move, but I am agile enough to dodge his attempt to catch me. He doesn't quite manage to keep the hurt off his face at my sleight.

"Give me a second to breathe." The pain is just a memory, but my chest feels tight, and I can't stop shaking, my face is wet.

"Okay. Take your time." The lack of tone pulls at my heartstrings. I compromise.

"Would you rub my shoulders, please?" I try to relax into it, but the tension is persistent. There is only so much warm hands can do for someone who can't relax, no matter how powerful they are. "That feels nice, thank you."

"Are you going to tell me about your dream?" I nod but don't say anything. "Mare?" I lean back into him. Cal runs his hands down my arms and rests his chin on my shoulder.

"It was awful. Everyone was dead." He doesn't respond. "Everyone. And I was Death—The Reaper."

"It's okay, you're safe." Concern radiates from him as though it will replace his heat—he feels a little cold even.

"It's not my safety I am worried about, it's yours and his." I wrap my arms around my knees and rest my chin on them.

"It won't be easy, but everything will work out." Cal squeezes me in reassurance. I let my head fall to the side and rest against his. I want to relax, to be gracious and let him have this moment, but I can't release the residual tension.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." I regard him with an air of skepticism. "I know better than to die." I continue to eye him. "You would just restart my heart so that you could kill me yourself for leaving you."

"That's true." I turn my head to kiss his cheek, but Cal does too, catching my lips with his, bringing a hand up to cup my face and run his fingers through my hair.

"Everything will be alright. We just have to wait it out; fight just a little longer." I dissolve into him, letting him pull me back down, kiss me. I pull him closer. Now that my terror has passed, I want nothing more than to feel him pressed against me, to taste him-mint. He got up to brush his teeth before I woke up.

"Do you think anyone would notice if we just didn't come out of this room today?" There is no innocence in the suggestion. The things he is doing with his mouth on my skin are very arousing.

"Probably, and we would miss so many opportunities to get under Evangeline's skin." I arc up into him, inviting him to touch me. Even though I had him last night, more than once, I still can't seem to get enough of him. Even more, the feeling seems to be mutual.

"Are you two friends now?" I have to bite down on a moan as he moves down below my neck.

"Not since we were ten-ish. Why?" He words are breathy and rushed; his face is flushed, and his eyelashes flutter a little too quickly. I push him back. He has been generous enough for now, it's my turn to make him feel good. I hover over him, planning my seduction, letting the tips of my fingers brush against all the places I will be running my tongue over before I kiss him again. It takes me a few minutes to answer him, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"Just curious." I know how to make him squirm. That is the goal, to make him want me so badly that he can't stand it.

"Jealous?" The question is punctuated by a gasp and a shiver.

"Absolutely. I hate the thought of you even looking at her." I whisper it into his ear while I nibble on the lobe, moving against him just a tiny bit.

"If you're joking, I can't tell." His grip on my hips tightens and releases several times

"Good. I like keeping you guessing." I roll over and get out of bed. I give a coy smile as he glares at me, clearly disappointed that I am not going to indulge his desires this morning. "You're honest when you're on your toes." I stretch my arms over my head arching my back so that the t-shirt I slept in rides up.

I push the shutters open just enough to peek out through the open windows, It's cold this morning. The first rays of light are just starting to creep over the horizon casting a glow that makes the sky look bruised. It's still early, and the house is silent, I doubt anyone else is even up yet. I wrap my arms around myself, his shirt is basically a dress on me.

"Come back to bed." I take my time looking over the sleeping city, letting the chilled air make my nipple hard before I close the shutters again. I leave the window open though. The scent of mothballs is still heavy in the air. When I turn back around, Cal's mood has shifted.

"Cal?' His eyes flick from boring a hole in the ceiling to me and back. "Tell me where your thoughts went?" I perch on the edge of the bed. I watch his face and notice he has been chewing the inside of his cheek. It is only something I have seen him do when he is stressed and trying too hard to hide it. I lean forward and brush a few loose strands of hair from his forehead, using it as an excuse to run my fingers down the side of his face and wondering how much sleep he actually got. The gesture catches him off guard. The corner of his mouth turns up, its almost a smile, but not quite.

It shouldn't bother me that my moment of tenderness surprises him. I wasn't the most outwardly affectionate girlfriend when I was with him before; and with Maven, everything I did was to get past his defenses and insecurities—to make him believe I was falling in love with him. It was easy; the way I acted was the difference between his light and his dark. But not with Cal, it's not as easy with him; there isn't the expectation of repercussions if I'm not selling my love to his standards. I want to do better for Cal.

In the dim morning light, I realize that I don't know how to love Cal.

"I was thinking about your family. Specifically, your father and brothers." I raise my eyebrows. "The last time I brought you home from the capitol, they impressed upon me a few strict guidelines regarding what I was and was not permitted to do with you..." I nod, understanding. My brothers, especially Shade, had threatened every boy that so much as glanced at Gisa or me since we turned fourteen respectively. This time, they had included my dad; he must know that Cal is special—my only one. I think he knew it before I did. The way Daniel Barrow regarded the young man who brought his daughter home to the Stilts after Queenstrial, was not with a look I had seen him give before, not even to Kilorn-whom everyone assumed I would marry eventually. I lose track of Cal's voice for a moment while I think of My dad and Shade. "...as soon as they find out your condition, I'm pretty sure one or all of them will shoot me." He looks dismayed when I giggle.

"They would think about it, but neither of my brothers would risk my wrath even before they knew I could electrocute them. My dad is a different story." I smile at him, letting my eyes very obviously look him up and down. "I think you can take him though."

"I wouldn't. Besides, nothing is more deadly than a father protecting his daughter's honor." I hesitate for just a moment.

"None of that matters." There is a hint of sadness in my tone. I clear my throat to cover it and look up at him with a weak smile. "We shouldn't go back to Piedmont." There is empathy in his eyes. His hands twitch. If I were a gambler, I would bet that he is resisting the urge to reach for me. I do it for him, hoping that I am somewhere close to anticipating his needs. I lay back down on my side, placing my head so that my face is close to his. I play with the hem of the sheet to distract myself from how good he smells. "My family is safe there as long as they are of use, but we are not. And neither is our son." He nods. "Julian and Sara will understand."

"Is that really what you want?" Now the sadness belongs to him.

"No, but it is what's necessary." We lie there for several minutes in silence. I twist the ring on my right hand several times before pulling it off and holding it up to look at it in the gray light. I know Cal is watching me closely and for just a moment, I consider putting it on my left hand instead, but I can't make myself do it. The mere thought makes me anxious; I'm not ready yet. I will be someday, but not today.

The cold of the morning and the gravity of my thoughts make me shiver. Cal clicks his flamemaker and lights the fireplace at the far end of the room. He lets it burn too hot until the room warms and my goosebumps smooth down.

"Show off." I only tease him a little bit, enough to break the tension that has been building since I decided we shouldn't go back to the Guard base.

"Only for you." He winks at me. I settle in closer to him. Letting his heartbeat comfort me once more.

"If I fall asleep, don't leave me, okay?" I yawn my way through the words. There was no reason to say them, I know he wouldn't leave, especially since for the first time in his life, there isn't anything for him to be responsible for, except me.

"I wouldn't even consider it."

* * *

 **Cal's POV**

I lay awake watching her sleep to keep my mind off the mayhem that will no doubt envelop the city. There will be a power vacuum as prominent nobles scramble to take over the throne. There is no telling how long it will take the factions to mobilize. But until they arrive at the gates, and reestablish the rule of law, it will be chaos.

There is no trace of the chaos on Mare's face. It is smooth and free of worry lines while she sleeps. Her lush pink lips part just a hint, and it is all I can do not to kiss them. The only thing that stops me is that I know she needs the rest. After the Hell she has been through, I will let her sleep to her heart's content. With what I saw transpire between Mare and Maven to go on, I can only imagine what the past few months have been for her. I know what the separation did to me, how restless and heartsick I felt wondering if she was okay; and I didn't have the added pressure of walking the minefield of my little brother's whims.

I try not to dwell on the past. There is no point when my future is curled up next to me, smiling in her sleep. I let my fingers trail down her body, careful not to let them catch on the fabric and wake her. I stop when I reach her stomach. I can't tell by looking at her that she is expecting. I see it more in the way she moves. I don't think she knows how she protects him and fights for him without thinking about it. I suppose that is how Maven figured it out. He always watched her with a keen eye and would have noticed the change too. That is why the Sentinels knew to enact Protocol Three—to protect the unborn heir at all costs. Had they managed to take her to the vault, an impenetrable room designed to protect the monarch from any manner of attack, there would have been no way for me to get to her without Nanabel's intercession.

I watch her eyelashes flutter and wonder what she is dreaming about, selfishly hoping that it is me. After her last dream, and the fitfulness of her sleep last night, I wouldn't wish her anything but the sweetest dreams. I brush a kiss against her temple and settle back into the pillows a little further to let my thoughts wander—a dangerous decision. When my mind wanders, I often stray to "What if?" My least favorite of these thoughts is "What If I had stayed home the night before Queenstrial, like the good little prince everyone thought me to be?"

Now that I know that two different houses were plotting my death, it's easy to spin imaginative scenarios for how they would do it. I would prefer to think that I would have seen it coming, but my brother's betrayal had blindsided me. Even though I had my suspicions about Elara because of my mother, I never would have thought Mavey capable. Of course, everyone knew Maven differently, and in the end, that is what made him so dangerous. He may have fooled Mare, but my father and I shared the same sin, underestimating him.

Volo Samos, on the other hand, doesn't know the meaning of the word discreet. His power grabs were obvious, and he never would have settled for power through marriage. He is patient and would have waited until Evangeline and I had a son, and he was declared Lord Protector. In the event I was killed in battle, that would have made him regent until my son was old enough to rule on his own. In my ignorance, I would have insisted on Maven in lieu of Volo Samos though.

I am so lost in the rabbit hole of what if, that a quiet knock at the door gives me a small start. I am careful not to wake Mare when I get out of bed. I've just pulled a shirt over my head when the doors bang open. Evangeline strides in leaving Dash in the hall with what looks like a dossier bearing a royal seal in his hands and looking vexed.

"Wake up lovebirds, it's important." I glance back at Dash who shrugs an apology.

"Remind me to kill her." Mare sounds groggy. She puts a pillow over her face as Evangeline throws the shutters open letting all the morning light into the East-facing room. The sun is fully over the horizon now.

"Oh, please do. I would love to trounce you again, the way I did the last time we went hand to hand." A pillow whips out and strikes eve behind the knees, causing her to lurch forward and grab the window frame to keep her face from hitting the upper panes. I don't move; there is no reason to get in between them. Mare would have no trouble dispatching Eve were she a legitimate threat. Dash clears his throat as he steps into the room. All three of us turn to look at him.

"I found this mixed in with the things I took from the King's Office." He hands me a leather portfolio. I scan the top page and look up in disbelief. Inside, bearing the official seal of the King's Office is a writ of Innocence absolving me of any wrongdoing in the Death of King Tiberius the sixth. "Keep reading." I can feel Mare's eyes on me as I thumb through the rest of the file. Also, inside is a full account and confession from Maven. My mind races. I don't have any idea what to do with what is in my hands. "We will give you a minute." Dash leaves quickly, but Evangeline doesn't move except to examine her manicured fingernails.

"Eve?" She glances up like she is doing me a favor by deigning to acknowledge that I spoke. "Do you mind?"

"No, not at all. Discuss. I will wait." She returns to scrutinizing her hands.

"Evangeline." I glare at her.

"Fine, as you wish, your majesty." She gives me a scornful curtsey before stalking out of the room. I follow her out with my eyes, turning to Mare as soon as the door closes behind her. She is sitting up in bed with the covers tucked around her legs and waist. I sit beside her and offer her the folio. I watch her face as she skims the pages. More than anything she looks hurt. It baffles me. She closes the dossier and quickly rearranges her expression until it is blank.

"Mare?" She doesn't answer me. I reach for her hand but think better of it before I touch her, pulling my hand back. Her eyes follow my it before she looks up at me. In one quick and graceful motion, Mare is straddling my lap with her arms around my neck. On her knees, she is able to look down at me. A tear drips down onto my cheek.

"Promise me that this doesn't change your mind. That you don't want to stay. That you don't want to be King." Every few words another tear hits my cheek. I don't wipe them away. My heart feels like it's being ripped from my chest. I can't promise her that I don't feel the pull of my duty and she knows that, so I say nothing. Just as quickly as she came, she is gone. She rips herself out of my arms, throwing the dossier against the opposite wall. I am watching her heart break again, and I can't make myself say or do anything to stop it.

"I am going to be sick." Before I can get up, she is in the hall. Evangeline watches me with her dangerously arched eyebrows raised. I push the door closed in her face. It takes an astounding amount of control not to put my fist through a wall or set the gently fluttering curtains on fire. I inhale deeply through my nose until I have a handle on my rage. I cross the room and kneel down to gather the scattered content of the dossier. As I am putting things back in order, I notice two additional things that I had missed in my initial look through. The first is a disc in a clear plastic case. It is not labeled. The dossier summary has it listed as a video confession to accompany the documents inside. The other is a parchment envelope with Mare's name written by Maven's hand on it. The letter isn't sealed.

I turn it over.

The ugly streak of jealousy in me is itching to read whatever it is he felt he needed to justify to her along with his confession. I don't know which bothers me more, the fact that he wrote to her, or the fact that it bothers me that he did. Still jealous of a dead man, how gauche. My contempt for him makes me burn the letter to ash in my hands. What Mare doesn't know can never hurt her. I brush the burnt wisps of charred paper and soot from my hands. I get dressed for the day and stamp the ash pile with the toe of my boot until it just looks like more dust on the carpet.

There is a study on this floor, but I can't remember where. I walk slowly down the hall. I can hear Mare sobbing and heaving as I pass the bathroom door; my heart breaks a little more. When I find the study, I rifle through the desk drawers until I find what I need. Laying everything out in front of me, I rearrange everything in the folio so that it is pristine. I write out two quick notes, placing one on top the folio and put them both inside a currier envelope that I address it to Josiah Force. He is not of one of the high houses, but he is the on-site director of the most significant media outlet in Norta. The second is for Mare.

On my way out of the house, I slide my note under the bathroom door. I should tell her goodbye—that I love her and our peanut more than anything, but were I in her place, I would not want to look at me right now, let alone hear me say goodbye. I pull my hood up before I open the door and step out into the morning.

It's still chilly despite the sun breaking over the city skyline. It's September, but it's only just beginning to feel like summer is dying. The streets are not crowded at this time of morning. The markets will be open, but the business district on the west side of Caesar's Square will be deserted, save for those who report the news. And what a news day it will be. I am counting on the assassination of my brother causing Servillus Tower to be in an uproar. I am hoping that I can slip in and out relatively unnoticed.

I approach the building's main entrance keeping my face tilted down. The woman behind the receptionist desk looks more than a little overwhelmed, an advantage that I am going to press. I stand at a respectful distance as she is bombarded with questions from two well-dressed men in expensive ties and a well-heeled woman with very big reddish hair. The receptionist starts to shuffle through files in front of her.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I just had it in my hands, it'll only be a moment longer." Now is my chance.

"Delivery for Josiah Force." I make a point to ignore the annoyed looking people that I am inconveniencing.

"Put it on the pile, I'm sure he will get to it eventually. As you can see, it's a little crazy in here." She doesn't look up from her shuffling. "Aha, here it is." I drop the heavy envelope onto the desk with a loud thud and turn to walk away. I raise my voice just enough for the entire lobby to hear.

"It's from the office of The King." I watch the reflection of the woman with the hair in the glass as she snatches the envelope away and heads for the elevator at a brisk pace. No one spares a second thought for me as I disappear out onto the street again.

* * *

 **Mare's POV**

My hands shake as I wipe tears from my face. After everything we have been through, I don't want to believe that Cal would still choose the crown. That he would still sacrifice everything, he has ever wanted for this kingdom. Of everything I taught him, I had hoped that selfishness would be the one trait he would absorb. I wanted more than anything to be the reason he was selfish, that he would turn away and let someone else lead. But I am still not enough. No, we are not enough. The sobbing makes me feel sick even though I stopped vomiting several minutes ago.

I let the slip of paper lay on the dirty, yellowed tile unread. I don't want to read it. Whatever he has to say will just echo in the hollow void left behind by his betrayal. Every reverberation would hurt more than the one before it. And if it is goodbye, I don't think I will survive. The paper stares at me as though it has his eyes. It watches me, unblinkingly as I struggle through the heart break. I am thankful that everyone else has the good sense to leave me be; even Evangeline, who would bask in the fountain of my misery given half a chance.

I sit there for the better part of an hour. The only knock at the door is Larissa enquiring after my condition. I told her it was morning sickness and that it will pass. When I do get up off the floor, it is because my back aches from sitting on the tile. I take a second to look at what I've written in the grime with my finger; Cade. I guess in all the turmoil, I picked a name for my peanut.

After a quick and scalding hot shower, I stand in front of the door to the hall. I take me a moment, but I place my hand on the door expecting it to feel warm. I hoped that he would be sitting there, on the other side, in agony, waiting for me to let him in. My heart squeezes when I realize that it is cold. I let myself back into the room at the end of the hall, ignoring the twinge when I find it empty I still haven't read the note. I go through the motions of getting dressed and brushing my hair. I'm trying not to feel anything. I settle onto the floor next to the fire—I'm already searching for heat in Cal's absence. I rest my head against the plaster surround. The heat is intense, but I can't muster the intent to care. I almost can't even feel it if I think about the burner that I am irrevocably in love with. I finally read the note.

 _I'm sorry._

 _I don't want to leave things like this, but this needs to happen very quickly. We don't have time to discuss it. Trust me when I say that it is for the best._

I crush the scrap of paper in my fist. It feels like goodbye. How can four sentences cause so much anguish? I let fresh tears roll down my face. Sometime later I hear footsteps in the hall. They are too heavy to be Dash. They shuffle and pace, unsure of how to enter. I want to call out to him, tell him to come in, that I love him, that I need him, that I will go wherever he goes—even if he stays. Instead, I keep my mouth shut and bite down on the inside of my lip until it hurts, letting go before I draw blood. I stare into the dying embers, waiting.

I don't look up when the door opens or when it closes again. I listen to Cal breathe, unwilling to give in, to be the first to speak.

"Mare." I glower at him with swollen, irritated eyes and wet, streaked cheeks. He leans against the wall watching me with his arms crossed and sad eyes.

"How could you? After how hard we fought; how could you?" I have to resist the urge to throw my ring at his face. I may be hurting, but I don't really want to hurt him. His eyes fall on the paper still clutched in my fist.

"Read the back." There is a small catch in his voice. I can't read him right now.

"What?"

"The note, turn it over." I do as he instructs after only a moment of hesitation. There, written in his bold and confident script are words that could have saved me so much pain. " _I will be no one's King but yours."_ There hadn't been enough room on the front for the most important words on the scrap.

"Do you mean it?" It's a stupid question, I know he does. He had already given me his word that he wanted nothing else. Doubting him had been nothing more than me projecting my fears onto him.

"You have doubts?" I don't want to answer him. I have been betrayed so many times, and since I lost Shade, trust doesn't feel possible, not real trust anyway.

"Not anymore." He comes to stand in front of me, holding his hands out to me.

"Come away from the fireplace." I let him help me up off the floor. I feel cold now that I am away from the coals. Cal brushes my now dry hair away from my face. "Did you eat anything while I was gone?" It almost amazes me that he could care so deeply that he is worried that I'm eating enough. But then again, He has always cared about all the little things—whether I slept, If I took the time to stretch and warm up before I run, whether I learned to dance.

"No. morning sickness spoils my appetite." I let him lead me out into the hall. I don't want to see anyone, but I also don't want to be left alone anymore. He'll be lucky if I let go of his hand anytime soon. He will be smugly satisfied about my newfound desire for physical affection later, but for now, I couldn't care any less. "Rabbit sounds really good though." He takes my ribbing in stride.

"I'll make it happen if it is what you really want." He actually sounds earnest, like he would do anything to make me smile. The way he looks at my melts my heart.


	19. You Give Me Fever

Cal's POV

I find it nearly impossible to be disinterested in the state of the City. Even though I plan to leave and never look back, watching with wide eyes as the court of children scrambles to secure power for their respective families is unavoidable. There is open fighting in the streets as High Houses quibble over who has the best claim on the throne. With the arbiter of every noble house still Loyal to the Calore name banished from Court, it is left to children to fight amongst themselves. Evangeline disappeared around midnight; I expect to see her reemerge as queen of the rubble pile before anyone can muster a force to quash and contain the riots. I know what I would do, but I do nothing.

In the early morning hours, the city has a flickering orange glow. The smell of smoke is thick, and I can taste the ash with every breath. The night has no chill because whole sections of the city are swathed in fire. I could help; I should help, but she keeps me here. Not by physical force—She would let me go if she thought she had to; if I told her I had to. She would never forgive me, but she would do it. She is stronger than I am, and I think she always has been. It's my feelings for her that hold me still. It has never been easy for me to choose. I have always run out the clock when faced with two equal options. That is no longer the case. I can't move because this time, there are two lives that outweigh an iron crown.

I cut a yellow rose from one of the overgrown bushes lining the low garden wall when I came out here almost an hour ago now. I roll the stem between my fingers, not caring that the thorns leave behind shallow abrasions. There is a cricket singing somewhere in the garden, but it is almost drowned out by the calamity that surrounds us. Perhaps it's just not feasible to find some peace tonight.

I spent most of the day in my mother's room, looking for more pieces of her to fill in the blanks. It's more difficult than I anticipated. She doesn't seem to be present in much of anything in this house. I see Julian wherever I look, but my mother is little more than fragments. I can't look around and clearly imagine her being happy anywhere in the house. I haven't been able to bring myself to open her journal yet. Mare's warning about finding it heartbreaking gives me pause. I did, however, finally open the velvet box that I took the last time I was here. I had expected to find some heirloom that my father had given my mother and couldn't bear to part with after her death. Instead, I found a series of letters that she had written to me while I was still an infant. I had to push down a twinge of resentment I felt towards my father for never being strong enough to give them to me. I resent him for a lot of things regarding my mother. I do have to give him a little credit for not reading them though, all seven of them were still sealed.

Her handwriting is narrow with a deep slant to the right. It resembles delicate scratches, like the nib of the pen barely skimmed the page as she wrote. Most importantly though, her voice is captured in those pages, and that is something I have never had before. Sure, there were recordings of her in the archive, but those were never her words, they were prepared for her by speech writers and advisors. She hated the public eye and avoided it whenever she could. When I unfolded the first one, a photograph fell out. It might be the only candid photo of my mother and me together that exists. Every other instance of her and I together were state portraits that slowly disappeared as Elara took over as queen. I had been too young to protest their removal.

Even though she is smiling, there is something sad about her expression; it doesn't quite reach her eyes. I, however, appear to be laughing with fat cheeks and two teeth. My hands reach for her. I tuck it away for later. I want to show Mare, but I want to wait until I have her undivided attention. I guess she taught me to be selfish after all.

Each of the letters outlines her hopes and dreams for me. She wanted so badly to teach me compassion and keep me away from the battlefield. She didn't want a warrior Prince. She wanted a little boy who learned to listen and solve his problems with words and choices, not powers and blood. She thought that it was time to change the caste system and wanted me to be the King that would do it. My mother wanted me to be happy. She loved me.

Her letters also reveal a hint of something more sinister. My mother was afraid of Elara. Afraid that Elara was inside her head, forcing her to doubt herself, making her feel like she was losing control. I had to stop there. I have had my suspicions about my mother's death for a few years now, but I have never had any proof, her journals were never found; and Sara...

I shoved the thought away violently and put the letters away to finish later. I instead examined what was right in front of me. Right after Mare had arrived, Julian had mentioned that she reminded him of my Mother. I had never been able to see it until now.

She sat cross-legged in the window seat for several hours today with an atlas open on her lap and a few encyclopedias stacked on the floor beside her—research. I promised her that she could pick the place that we would end up, even if that means the other side of the World. She caught me watching her more than once and each time, she smiled, and a pink flush rose over the cheeks and down her neck. That blush has a lot to do with how I fell so hard for her. I watched her twist the ring on her finger while she poured over the maps and descriptions of culture and economy. She holds her tongue between her teeth when she is focused on what she's reading. It's endearing. I envy her ability to block out the noise of revolution and focus on saving her family.

I, on the other hand, look up every time I hear a floorboard creak or a door open and close. I can't even block out the sounds of the house. Clarisse is just as on edge as I am, Evangeline has been restless, and Larissa just seems scared but determined. Dash is the only one who seems to be living life as normally as possible— to be fair; he is the only one of us who can come and go as he pleases, he is not wanted for any of the reasons the rest of us are. I offered to help him sift through the reports and memorandums that he pulled from my brother's office, most of them are useless without being able to cross-reference them with their full files in the archives, but he declined. He assured me that I had more pressing matters in front of me—the implication being that I needed to spend more time with Mare and less time being a responsible adult.

The door behind me creaks open slowly. I don't look up from the spinning rose in my hand. I don't have to, I can feel her.

"I'll come back inside in a few minutes." The door closes, but her static still clings to my skin. She sits down behind me and dangles her feet off the edge of the small landing that serves as a porch. Her shoulder bumps mine.

"You're restless tonight." I don't think the statement warrants a response. "I think you should go help out." I look up.

"What?" She hesitates.

"Neither of us can sleep, and I can't do anything to help, but you can."

"Are you sure?"

"Keep your head down and come home to me." She kisses my cheek before she gets up. I catch her wrist before she gets too far away. She flinches and jerks away. I forgot.

"Why?"

"Because this is our fault. The city shouldn't burn for our choices." She sounds sad. "But more importantly, you need this. I know you. You can't be a bystander, so go be hero. Just remember, if you die, I will kill you." She disappears through the door. That woman is full of surprises. A few seconds later the door opens again. "Cal." I turn just as she tosses a hooded jacket and a damp cloth to cover my nose and mouth with at me. "Don't forget your cape." She is gone before I stand up. I put on the jacket and make my way through the rusted garden gate, setting the rose down on the low garden wall. I'll give it to her when I come home. I look up at the house before I go. Mare stands at my mother's bedroom window and watches me go. The look on her face mirrors the way I looked every time I let her walk into danger without me.

* * *

The city has an eerie quality to it tonight. The sections that are not lit by fire and cluttered with fighters and debris are quiet and dark. I keep my head down and wait to tie the damp cloth around my face until I reach a small merchant square alive with activity. In addition to hiding my face, the cloth also looks like I am trying not to inhale the smoke, it will mask my abilities as long as I don't draw too much attention to myself.

The first fire I come to burns hot and high. Two houses have already been engulfed, and a third has caught, and the flames are quickly climbing the walls to the second floor. I position myself in a cluster of nymphs and pretend to manipulate the water with them while trying to gain control of the inferno. It takes more time than I'd like, but I guide the base away from fresh fuel and contain it enough to let the nymphs do their job. When it appears that they have it under control, I move on to the next one a few blocks away.

This one is smaller, but it will spread quickly; the flames have already spread to the second floor. The building is a tailor's shop with an apartment above it. I catch a glimpse of a terrified child in one of the dark windows. She could not be more than four-years-old. I circle the building looking for a way in, fire blocks all the exits except the fire escape, but she would be too young to do it herself. I scale the rickety iron ladder to the landing. The window is locked, I cover my eyes and put my elbow through it to reach in and unlock it. I catch my sleeve on the broken glass as I pull my arm out. It leaves a jagged cut on my arm that is deep and bloody. I have to yank on the window to get it open enough to get through it.

"Somebody Help!" I Follow the sound of a boy screaming into a hallway. The Kitchen is already burning, and the blaze has spread into the hall blocking a closed door. "My sister is trapped." I have to pull him away from the flames.

"What is her name?" The boy, who is barely thirteen has burns on his hands and arms from trying to get to her. They are not severe but should be tended to.

"Anabel."

"Are your parents here?" He shakes his head.

"They went to help with another fire; my mom is a nymph. I was supposed to keep her safe." I nod.

"Get yourself out. I will get Anabel." He hesitates, waiting to see what I do before leaving his baby sister. He runs when I kick in the door. He doesn't wait to see me step through the flames. I yell for the girl; I don't see her anywhere. A small noise comes from the closet. I open the door and find her sitting on the floor in the back corner, clinging to a stuffed rabbit. I pull my mask off and kneel down. "Hi, Anabel. My name is Cal. I'm going to take you to your brother. Okay?" She nods and crawls out of the closet towards me. I untie my mask and hold it out so she can see it. "I'm going to tie this around your face. It is going to help you breathe." She nods and doesn't move while I work. "Ready?" another nod. I pick her up and walk back towards the flames, which have spread into the bedroom. She buries her little face in my shoulder as we get closer to the blaze. "You're alright, Anabel." I force the base of the flame to split and walk through.

As Anabel and I pass through the living room on our way to the fire escape, there is a series of loud pops. I drop to a knee and pull the small girl down to shield her just as something behind us explodes. Flaming pieces of drywall fly past us, her screams are ear-splitting. I glance back over my shoulder; the water heater had blown. I hold Anabel out in front of me to make sure she isn't injured before starting toward the window again. I set her down on the fire escape and make a move to climb back through the window.

"Mr. Bunny!" Somewhere in the commotion, she had dropped the rabbit. She is terrified, but her eyes still plead with me. I can't not go back for the rabbit.

"I'll get him, but you have to stay here." I find the rabbit in the hall. His whiskers are a little singed, and he covered in soot, but he is no worse for wear. I really hate rabbits. I climb out onto the platform and reunite Anabel and Mr. Bunny. It earns me a big hug from a tiny girl. Maybe I don't hate rabbits that much. I lift her up again. "I need you to hold on tight. Can you do that for me?"

"I'm ascared." Her mispronunciation makes me smile.

"I know. I am too, but it's almost over. Just hold on real tight." I smooth down her golden hair before climbing carefully down the ladder. She doesn't need to know that what I'm afraid of has nothing to do with what is going on around us. Her brother waits for us at the end of the alley, closer to the flames than I would like. He watches me with a mix of admiration and disbelief. I lead them away from the people frantically fighting the fire. I pass Anabel to her brother. "Is there somewhere safe you can go?" I untie the mask from her face.

"Yes. My dad's brother lives on High street near Hamblin." I passed by there on my way towards the chaos; it will be safe for them there. I nod.

"Go straight there. Do not stop for anyone or anything. Do you understand?"

"Yes, your majesty." I level my gaze at the boy. "Don't worry; I won't tell anyone you're back." I don't say anything about it.

"Make sure you get those burns looked at." He nods.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Turn to follow the alley back to help put the fire out, tying the mask back in place.

"Thank you, Fireman!" A tiny voice rings out behind me.

Over the next few hours, I help to put out seven fires, break up several fights and stop two robberies. As the sun starts to rise, the rioting begins to die down. I head back towards the safe house, exhausted, but in an excellent mood. When I reach the house, it is dark and quiet. I assume everyone but Mare is asleep; her nightmares would keep her awake and waiting for me. I try not to make any noise I walk through the house, intending to take a quick shower and pass out. But as I climb the stairs, something feels off. I take the rest of the stairs three at a time and run down the hall to the room I share with Mare. It's empty. My heart races as I throw every door in the hallway open searching for her. There is no one here.

My frantic mind spins theories about where everyone could be. The worst of which is that they were captured, but I don't know which faction would be the worst. Evangeline. Before I can manage to get a handle on my rage, I lash out, striking the wall. The plaster crumbles around my fist until I hit the support beam behind it. It jars my wrist, and I pull back bloody knuckles. Of all the expanse of wall, I managed to find the roughly two inches with a stud behind it. I flex my hand a few times. At least I didn't break anything.

I comb through the house, but don't find any signs of a struggle or that anyone else had been in the house. Just as I'm about to leave our bedroom, I hear Mare and Dash in the hall. I pull the door open.

"Where have you been?" My voice is a little harsher than I intended.

"What the Hell happened to your arm?" I glance at it and do a double take. I had forgotten about it after I pulled that little girl out of the fire. My sweater is soaked through with bright silver blood, and the wound has been torn open again, so fresh blood drips from my hand. "Come here." I follow her into the bathroom. "Take off your jacket and your shirt." Both garments are soaked enough that I have to peel them away from the skin. She gingerly cleans the wounds, dabbing at them with a damp cloth and putting pressure on the laceration until it clots again.

"Where were you?" This time, my voice is calm.

"Dash, and I went to do some recon. Didn't you read my note?"

"What note?"

"The one I left it the kitchen for you so that you wouldn't worry." She presses a little harder. I flinch. "Hold still. I have to get the glass out of it."

"I didn't find a note." She looks at me apologetically and returns to pulling slivers of glass from my arm.

"Please tell me that you didn't get in a bar fight when I sent you out into the world to do some good? Because that I what all this looks like." I wince again as she works another sliver of glass out.

"I don't go to bars."

"We met in a bar."

"We met outside a bar."

"When I tried to pick your pocket as you came out."

"I didn't get in a bar fight."

"I don't think I believe you." She is teasing.

"That's your choice."

"What did you do then?"

"I cut my arm on a broken window."

"And your hand?"

"I feared the worst when I couldn't find you. I punched a wall." Larissa pokes her head around the doorframe.

"Can I help?" Mare steps aside and lets Larissa heal my wounds.

"Did you and Clarisse find someplace to help out?" She steps back against the wall and crosses her arms over her stomach.

"Yes, thank you for suggesting we go. I set up a little med station on the edge of the residential district." Larissa looks me in the eye. "Speaking of, I healed a young boy with burns on his hands who had a little girl with him. She excitedly told me about the fireman that saved her and her stuffed bunny—whom I treated for smoke inhalation. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Nope." I shake my head. I don't deserve to be praised for doing the right thing.

"Huh, okay then. Flex." I do. "Looks good. You're all set."

"Thanks, Larissa." She gives me a thumbs up as she leaves, pulling the door shut behind her.

"You are such a liar." I shrug and turn away to turn on the shower. I see her move for the door out of the corner of my eye. I move quickly and catch her around the waist gently pulling her back to me I reach out and lock the door.

"You are not going anywhere. I want your undivided attention for a while" She turns in my arms and kisses me. We pull each other's clothes off as the room fills with steam. When I pull her shirt over her head, I notice that the brand my little brother left on her collarbone has been healed. I press my lips to the place where it had been, selfishly glad that the last physical trace of him is gone. When I pull back to finish disrobing her, soot from my face is smeared across her shoulder.

We take turns cleaning one another. My skin tingles everywhere she touches me, and I can't keep my hands off of her. The thought of not being inside her is almost painful. While she has her back to me, I slide my hands down her slick body until my fingers find warmth that would rival mine. She opens herself up to me, already hot and wet. I tease her until she slips her hand up around my neck and twists her fingers in my hair. I think I know why she likes it a little longer now.

She leans forward placing her free hand on the wall and rising onto her toes. I press into her slowly. Pulling back only to push in a little bit further the next time. Making her really feel every little movement. By the time I have buried myself inside her, she has both hands on the wall, and her breathing is heavy. I watch her back rise and fall with more than a little self-satisfaction. She whines for more with every long, languid stroke I take. She looks back at me with a pout on her lips when I pull out. I gesture for her to come to me with both hands and she obeys, turning and pressing her body against me. I guide her back until her back is against the wall. I lift her, letting her wrap her legs around me while I thrust into her. My mouth scarcely leaves hers while we are entwined. She breathes life and her pleasure into me. Even biting my lip when she climaxes.

"I love you, Cal" I can't recall the last time she said it first, or even if she ever had at all. She squeezes me so tight I can feel her rapid pulse in her muscles. It pushes me over the edge causing me to finish suddenly.

"I love you too." I stand there with her clinging to me. I want to tell her exactly how I feel about her, but I hold my tongue. I have to wait for her to come to me. She lifts her head off my shoulder. She looks like there is something she wants to say, but instead, she kisses me. A sweet little sigh escapes her lips as I pull out, still pretty hard. It fuels my still burning desire for her.

"Is it stupid that I don't want you to put me down?"

"No, but the water is getting cold, and I'm not keen on walking down the hall naked."

"Fine. But I am not happy about it." I set her down and turn the water off. I wrap a large towel and my arms around her. In the past, I would have been afraid that she would rebuff my physical affections; but now she seems to have warmed up to and now craves them. I relish it. I press a quick kiss to her cheek before I let her go.

* * *

I wake up just before noon still tired and groggy after only a few hours of sleep. I only open my eyes because I don't feel her beside me. I've only had her back for a few days, but already dislike the idea of waking up without her. I sit up and scrub my hands over my face. I feel awful, sick even. I haven't been ill since I was a child.

I smell the coffee before the door opens. She hands me the hot mug, and it burns my fingertips. She gives me a concerned look and lays her hand on my forehead.

"Do feel okay? You feel cold and clammy." I gauge the disquiet on her face and decide to be honest with her and not keep up my front entirely.

"I don't feel great." She looks skeptical. "But, I feel good enough."

"Okay. If you say you're fine, I trust you." Her tone is light and almost dismissive. "Could you light a fire for me? It's a bit chilly in here." I scoff and oblige. Or at least I try to. My flamemaker sparks and burns me. She looks smug now. She takes my coffee mug.

"Hey—"

"You are obviously sick. Lie back down. I will send Larissa in when she gets back. You are not to leave this bed." I make a face at her, but inwardly, I adore it. I am even willing to defer to her instruction. "I'll be back in a minute

"Can I have the coffee back?" For a moment she looks like she is going to say no, but she hands the now cooler mug back to me.

"Enjoy it; it is the only one you are getting."

When she returns a little later, she settles into the window seat with one of the novels from my mother's room. I try to sleep for a couple of hours, but I am unsuccessful. Mare, however, has fallen asleep curled up under the window. I quietly get out of bed and grab a blanket from a nearby chair and lay it over her. I kneel down and carefully pull the novel from her hand putting it face down on the floor.

"You're supposed to be sleeping." I shrug.

"Restless mind." She reaches out and lays back of her fingers against my cheek. She wears the same concerned look as she had earlier. I must still feel cold to her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I sit on the floor with my back against the seat. Mare drapes her arm over my shoulder curling and uncurling her fingers in my shirt. "Does it have to do with what was bothering you yesterday?" I lay my head back and look at her. "I like to keep an eye on you too. You just don't catch me."

"I found a few letters that my mom wrote to me before..." I don't want to say it out loud. Mare lets her fingers stray between the buttons of my shirt; an intimate touch meant to comfort, not distract. "I found this." I get up and retrieve the photo and the letters and settle back in, so her hand glides down my chest again. I show her the picture.

"She was beautiful." I nod.

"And smart and compassionate." I sigh heavily. "And I feel like I am disappointing her." She puts her other arm around my neck and holds me a little closer. I can feel the warmth coming off her cheek; she is running a fever too. I bet I made her sick.

"Do you see the way she is looking at you? You could never disappoint her." I appreciate what she is trying to do, but she has no idea what I am feeling. I don't even really know how I'm feeling.

"I am the opposite of everything she wanted for me."

"Did she not want a brilliant and thoughtful son, with a fierce sense of loyalty and selflessness?" She makes it sound absurd that I could believe I am disappointing my mother.

"The last thing she wanted was for me to be a warrior, a soldier."

"That is not your failure. Your father made that choice. He let her down, not you. There is nothing the little boy in that photo could do that wouldn't make her proud."

"You two have a lot in common. I have a feeling she would have loved you, maybe more than I do." I pause for a moment to imagine my mother and the girl of my dreams with their heads together, conspiring to overthrow the government.

"It appears that you got to know her pretty well from those letters."

"It doesn't make up for losing her so young." I trip over the next few words. "I think Elara killed her." Mare doesn't say anything. I don't know if there is anything she can say. "I think she was depressed, but Elara pushed her too far."

"Oh, Cal. I don't know what to say. Tell me how to comfort you." She presses her face into my neck. She is very warm. It's odd for me to touch her and have her skin feel hot, but I guess this must be what I feel like to her.

"This. Just keep doing this."

"I have a better idea. Come up here with me." She sits up, throwing the blanket off and opening her arms to me. She invites me to settle in so that my head rests on her chest. She runs her fingers through my hair before looping her arms around my neck. I lay the blanket over both of us.

"Come in." Mare sound half asleep. I must have fallen asleep as well because I didn't hear a knock and the light is considerably thinner now—late afternoon. I start to sit up as the door opens, but Mare restrains me. Larissa lets herself in. Her smile falters a bit when she turns toward us.

"You both look" She takes a moment to choose her words. "bad. You look bad." She walks over at a quick pace tending to Mare first, putting her hand on her forehead. "Let me guess, fever, general feeling of fatigue, muscle weakness, and loss of abilities?" She takes Mare's pulse.

"Yes." My voice is mostly groggy hesitation.

"That little girl you didn't save this morning, she had The Fever." I scowl. The Fever is a childhood illness that Silver kids get and then develop immunity to. I never had it. From what I understand, it is worse to get it as an adult.

"Will it hurt the baby?" I fix Larissa with a concerned gaze, but she isn't paying attention to me.

"It shouldn't. I've never overseen a pregnancy like this, so it can't be certain. I'll be keeping a close eye on you." She rounds on me. "This is your fault." She doesn't have to say it; I feel terrible enough for making Mare sick.

"Let him be, Larissa. He beat himself up enough already." She isn't talking about making her sick, but I am grateful to her all the same—no one has ever needed to come to my defense before, not since I was old enough to do it myself. I know that Mare loves me, but the little things she does to prove it turn me into a simpering idiot. Had you asked me the day I met her if I thought I could love someone this much, I might have laughed at you.

"You two are in for a rough few days. There isn't anything I can do for this; it has to run its course. Get some rest." With that Larissa lets herself out. I sit up and turn to Mare.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." She gives me an odd look. "What?"

"Don't do that." Her voice is small. It gives me pause.

"Do what?"

"I don't want a pet name." She won't look at my face, and I have seen the look on hers before, It's been a long time, but I know what evokes it, Maven.

"Okay, no pet names." I draw her face up to look at me. "Anything else I should avoid?" She keeps her eyes downcast. I can't put my finger on why it bothers me. I bite at the inside of my cheek while I wait for her. I hope that she will confide in me, but I will settle for anything that isn't anxious silence.

"Just my wrists." I give a slight nod. She barely let me touch her wrist when she broke it during the battle for Corvium. She won't even wear long sleeves unless she has to. I look back up at her intending to settle back into the comfort of her embrace, but she has pulled her knees up to her chest and completely retreated from me. It is the opposite of how close we have been today. I am not ready to let that go.

"How about your hands? Can I have those?" I hold mine out to her. She is slow to come around, but she eventually takes my hands. I gingerly pull her towards me. If she weren't ill, I would ask her to dance with me. Instead, I lie back down with her, tucking her head under my chin—reminiscent of our first few nights together—when we needed each other but were both either unwilling or unable to say it out loud. "I want to help you heal. When you are ready to tell me what he did to you, I will listen." I feel her go rigid. "There is no pressure, just whenever you are ready." I close my hands over hers.

"Before I tell you what he did, I have to tell you what I did. It isn't going to make you happy, and I don't think I'm ready for that yet." It feels like the bottom dropped out of my stomach. I assume that she is talking about her physical relationship with my brother; not exactly a subject I relish discussing. I bite the bullet.

"I already know that you were sleeping with him I saw the light show."

"That isn't what I was talking about." She shifts and squirms in my arms. I have never seen her like this.

"Mare, you don't have to tell me if—"

"Maven wasn't the only one hurting me; I was hurting me too." The admission is rushed. It tumbles out hurt mouth and hits me in the chest like a battering ram. The cut on her hand had made me suspicious but having them confirmed is both a relief and hard to swallow. "I put myself in a position that I couldn't handle and got desperate for any way to not feel like I was dying." I have never wanted to hold her and love her more than I do at this moment, not even when she told me she is carrying my son. I bury my face in her hair when her shoulders start to tremble. I can only think of one thing to say.

"I'm sorry, Mare. Had I made the right choice the first time—"

"Cal, no." I let her shush me. I had no idea what the end of that sentence would have sounded like until it came out of my mouth. "This is my fault, just mine." I can hear the tears in her voice. She sounds defeated and has stopped squirming. She has given up. I let go of one of her hands and smooth her hair back from her face. I dab at her tears with the edge of the blanket.

"Can I tell you something?" She says nothing but does nod her assent. "You are loved beyond measure. There is nothing you could do that would diminish that love."

"I don't deserve you." Its barely a whisper, I almost missed it. I brush my lips against her temple.

"We deserve each other. We've fought too hard not to."

I carried her back to bed sometime after sunset. She fell asleep again after a long and uncomfortable discussion about her trauma. I came out of the other side with conflicted feelings over my brother. Her descriptions of his behavior when added to what I have witnessed since the night he revealed his true self are enough to incense me, but the damage inflicted at his mother's hands temper it just enough for me to feel pity. I, however, would not change what I did to protect Mare and my son from him.

Mare's sympathy for his plight needles at the raw edges of my jealous feelings toward her relationship with him. I think a small part of her will always love who she thought he was and if I were honest, I would admit that I will too. But I'm not. I can't be, not until I find it within myself to forgive for what he's done.

For all my diligence and attention to her over the course of the evening, it took me until the next morning to realize that she no longer wears her ring on her right hand, but on the left.


	20. A Fight Worth Losing

**Author's Note:**

 **Real Talk: I have a much easier time writing from Cal's perspective that Mare's.**

 **Happy Reading!**

 **Mare's POV**

I follow the well-tread tracks in the thick layer of dust on the attic floor with my eyes. The footsteps all lead to the same place, a large window from which you can see the city's ruined skyline. He has been up here a lot. Cal stands with his back to me, buried so deep in his own thoughts that he hasn't noticed me yet. I use the opportunity to study him. As his fever dropped, his guard went back up, cutting me off from his troubles and stresses. Silhouetted against a bright flash of lightning, he is every inch the King he should be, strong, introspective, altruistic—true nobility. How had it taken me so long to realize that I had fallen in love with him? He stares out the rain-lashed window as if it holds the answer to every question that has ever been asked. With his back straight, his head barely clears the eaves that frame the alcove the window is set into. I cross the room and slide my arms around him, pressing my face to the hollow between his shoulder blades. He responds immediately, releasing a little bit of the tension he was holding onto.

"So, this is where you have been hiding." It isn't a question.

"I'm not hiding. I'm thinking." I don't say anything. If Cal wants to tell me what is bothering him, he will. If not, there is no sense in baiting him. "What are you even doing up? You should be resting."

"My fever broke yesterday. You'd know that if you hadn't been up here _thinking_ for three days."

"I'm sorry, I've been distracted. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes." I let the silence stretch out between us for what feels like hours even though its barely been a full minute. "I know where we are going." He unfolds his arms and pulls out of my embrace so he can look at me. His usually smooth face is lined with trepidation, and his eyes are hard. I know that I am not entirely at fault for his consternation, but my heart squeezes all the same for even being partly to blame. He pulls me into him.

"I am beyond relieved that you are okay," He nuzzles his face into my hair. I feel his chest expand as he inhales deeply. "but we need to talk." He tightens his hold so that I cannot get away from him without putting up a major fight or using my lightning on him. That doesn't stop me from trying. There is nothing good that could possibly follow the words _we need to talk. "_ I haven't changed my mind, I am still yours. We are still leaving, I just don't know how." I stop struggling. "The city is under siege. We can't get out." I knew both Anabel Lerolan's and Volo Samos' forces were close, Dash and I had confirmed it before I fell ill. But what about the troops from Piedmont? We hadn't been able to find out anything about the guard on our reconnaissance mission.

"Tell me everything." He hesitates. "Everything, Cal. I mean it." When I push back again, he lets me. I level my gaze at him.

"Samos to the North, my grandmother to the West, The Guard to the south.; nothing in or out of the city until the loyalist children surrender. It has been three days. The city has a week before people start to get desperate. Two until everything is depleted; that is as long as Maven kept feeding into the reserves."

"And Evangeline?" I have to work to keep my voice even and not sound like I am attacking him for protecting me while I was recovering from the fever from which he recovered much more quickly.

"She is surprisingly absent." It apparently bothers him that he doesn't know what she is up to. I jealously wonder how much he thinks about her.

"What is going on beyond the walls?"

"Nonengagement. They all seem to believe they are still allies in this. None of them can take action without outing themselves as a defector." I nod, biting my lips to keep them closed. I stare at the floor. There is something that I need to say, but I am terrified of it. It will change the paradigm.

"Cal? I want to stay."

"In Norta?" I can't identify what I hear in his voice.

"In Archeon." He draws my face up.

"I don't understand where this is coming from. What about our son?"

"Cade." He cocks his head to the side, a question in his eyes. "Our son's name is Cade." He says it a couple of times to himself, letting it roll around on his tongue, figuring out how it tastes. One corner of mouth turns up in a small half smile.

"Your brother would've loved it." It takes him a moment to come back to the point, the safety of our child. "You were convinced we couldn't protect him here. What changed?"

"I don't know, but I've been watching you. I can't ask you to do this for me anymore, and I can't leave without you."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I don't want you to feel like I forced your hand or to have regrets. I'm saying that I'll support whatever you decide. And for whatever it's worth I think we should stay. You belong here." I said the words and the world didn't fall from beneath my feet, but still, I hold my breath.

"I don't know what to say."

"Take some time to think about it. I'll be around when you're ready." I start to walk away. He reaches out and catches me around the waist.

"Mare? You are incredible." I don't turn around.

"Don't take too long," Again I pull away. It feels like practice for what I know is coming. My heart feels heavier with every step down the attic stairs. It feels like a stone by the time I reach the room Dash is holed up in. I knock and enter before he answers.

"I found it." He looks up, excitement written all over his face. "I'm sure of it." There are maps and archive files spread out in a wide arc on the floor around him. He has spent the better part of the week searching for the black facility where Maven kept his Newblood prisoners. I had offered my help while I was convalescing, but he had waved me off preferring to go it alone as he had since Bash was mysteriously reassigned to Piedmont. I nod, stepping deeper into the room and pushing the door closed behind me.

"I guess it's time for you to go get Bash." His expression shifts from excited to confused. "He is a heavy hitter, there is no way Davidson would have left him behind." When I left camp, Bash was an EarthBreaker. He could pull chunks of stone from beneath the ground, I can't imagine what he can do now.

"Wouldn't Davidson be suspicious if he disappeared? I don't want to put him in any unnecessary danger."

"Maybe I can help with that." Neither of us had heard Cal come down the attic stairs, we both look up at him as he pokes his head around the not quite closed door before he enters.

"That was quick." I sound skeptical, but Cal doesn't seem to notice.

"There wasn't even a choice." Dash looks between us. I hadn't told anyone but Cal what I had decided.

"What do you have in mind?" The eagerness has returned to Dash's voice.

"We will need everyone." The is a spark in his eyes and something in his voice that I haven't heard since before his father was murdered. It warms my heart. This is the Cal that I secretly admired, the one I was afraid to let go to the front.

"I'll gather everyone in the kitchen." Dash jumps up and brushes past us before disappearing through the library door. I keep my distance from Cal, not because I don't want to throw myself in his arms, but because I do, and I am not sure that I won't lose him to the crown. I told him that I would support him, and that includes reclaiming his title; but what if the crown changes him? What if I wake up one morning and my Cal has been squeezed out of existence?

"What's your plan?" I sound subdued.

"Wouldn't you like to know what I chose?" His voice is soft and comforting. It amplifies my want for him to hold me. I look at the floor and shake my head just a bit.

"No, I don't think I do." I feel small; my voice reflects that.

"Come here please." His tone doesn't change while he extends his hands to me. I don't move. "Please?" I don't step back when he steps forward. "May I?" I nod and don't look up. All he does is entwine his fingers with mine. I expected more, but I think he is wary of pushing me into a defensive position. He is learning. "You started wearing your ring on your left hand."

"You noticed that huh?"

"Of course, I did. I made you a promise. I wish I knew what it meant though..." I look at him with narrowed eyes. He's baiting me.

"Who says it means anything? Maybe I just like it better on that hand or, I'm less likely to melt it on that hand." I'm not ready to give in to his charm yet.

"Do you love me?" I don't hesitate. Of course, I love him. I don't say it as often as I think it, or nearly as often as I should, but he knows. I'm sure he knows. We just don't say it.

"Yes."

"Do you trust me?" Again, I don't hesitate.

"Yes"

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes." My hand flies up to cover my mouth as soon as the word tumbles out. A little boy's mischievous grin spreads across his face. He did that on purpose. He uses his now free hand to draw the hair away from my face.

"Relax," He presses his lips to my hairline. "I'm not proposing. When I do it, I'll do it right. I just wanted you to admit it; out loud."

"You're mean." I scowl at him, but it only serves to make his smile wider.

"I have also never been so ecstatic." I let the statement fall away. I'm mad at him for coaxing the words out before I wanted to say them.

"What did you decide?" I stare at the floor.

"I'm going to take back the city." I clench my jaw. This is what I was afraid of. Even less than anything thing else in the world, do I want to be bound to a monarch. He can never know what it has been like for me, being shuffled back and forth between him and his brother; called all manner of names, accused of all manner of things for having a relationship with each of them. The people would never accept me as their queen. "So I can give it to the people." I am at a loss.

"I don't understand."

"You will." As he turns towards the door. I watch him slyly switch his ring to the opposite hand as if it had been there the whole time. I choose to say nothing. "Are you coming?"

"You go ahead, I'll catch up." He shrugs and continues toward the door. I tilt my head and watch him walk away. I hang back for a few seconds after he leaves just to breathe. I feel erratic, like what I am feeling isn't under my control. I don't want to give Cal emotional whiplash by jerking him back and forth. I push everything down and leave the room only to find him waiting for me at the top of the stairs. "You didn't have to wait for me."

"I wanted to. I do actually enjoy being near you." He slips his arm around my waist. "Because I get to do this." Cal sweeps down and kisses me, lingering a little longer than is necessary. I seize the opportunity and kiss him a second and a third time. The lightning flashes a bit brighter and more quickly. The bolts have a purple afterglow. I had to rise onto my toes to kiss him back, now, with his arms wrapped around me, they barely skim the floor. "I'm glad I can still pull a storm out of you."

"I'll show you how easily later if you want." Thunder crashes right overhead rattling the walls. The charged particles thrum in my blood.

"Oh, I want." The admission comes from somewhere deep in his throat, low and rough, like a growl. The implied aggression makes a warm tingling flush rise in me. I press into him. "When did you get to be such a tease?" I slip out of his grasp easily but let him catch me so he can hold me a little bit longer.

"You say that like you don't love every second of it." I shiver when his lips find my neck. "Mmmm; you give just as good as you get, my King." I remember for a moment how I felt the first time Cal hinted at commitment. How warm I felt even without following his implication to its source. I absolutely want to marry him, and I have for a longer than I care to admit to either of us. I just have to get over this horrid anxiety. I know he will be patient and kind; respectful of my needs at the expense of his own. I never wanted it to be this way.

"Ahem." Larissa clears her throat from the bottom of the stairs. I glare at her from the top while Cal laughs it off. "We are all waiting with baited breath down here." She disappears back into the kitchen without another word. When Cal and I enter the kitchen, the conversation stops. All three of our friends look everywhere but at us.

"I think they were talking about us." I glance at Cal as I say it.

"And it obviously wasn't anything good." Both of us carry a mocking tone, but I level my gaze at Dash who quickly averts his.

"Maybe they are just star struck by their King and his Queen." Four sets of eyes immediately snap to me. I ignore them all. If he gets to toy with the idea of marriage, I do too. I look up at Cal with the sweetest smile I can muster. His eyes are molten pools of gold, longing swirls in their depths. I blink slowly. It feels like the entire room has slowed almost to a stop as he and I stare at each other. I bow under the intensity and look away first. He squeezes my hand. "I was kidding. Lighten up."

The tension dissipates as Cal explains his thoughts and what he wants to do to regain control of the city. I watch him with interest as he walks us through every detail. He has been thinking about this for days, I push aside the irrational hurt I feel over it. There is no denying it, he is a true son of his forefathers. The five of us spend the next couple of hours discussing and making plans.

"Davidson would listen to me before anyone else." There is a defensive edge to my voice that I don't even try to keep in check.

"True, but I don't want you anywhere near any of this. It's too dangerous in your condition" Cal addresses me as though this is a privet conversation.

"Do you expect me to sit at home and knit? Farley was out in the field, and she and Clara are fine, I will be fine too."

"Farley didn't have someone–" Lighting strikes too close to the garden wall.

"Don't say it, Cal." I push the words out from behind a clenched jaw. He knows better than to bring up Shade's death. He knows that I haven't even begun to deal with it. I don't know how to.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean–" He knows there is now nothing he can say to keep me out of the fray.

"It's done. I'm going to meet with Davidson."

"Okay." He won't look at me, and for the moment I am okay with it.

"As a medical professional; Mare is fine to be in the field until I say she isn't. Also, I'm going with her." That catches both of our attention.

"Why?" It's Dash who speaks up first.

"Because I said so." I catch her eye, she is hoping that Sara will be there. That both she and her aunt share the same need to be in the place where they are the most useful.

"I don't think that is wise." She and I both fix our gaze on Dash.

"She's going." I look between Dash and Cal, who nods his assent. Even if he weren't feeling guilty about bringing up Shade, he would allow Larissa to go with me, she is insurance that I will be okay. He has learned to be selfish.

"Everyone get some rest, we are doing this first thing in the morning." Cal turns to leave as everyone disburses, but I braid my fingers into his, holding him still until everyone is gone. "Cal?" he still won't look at me, looking at the floor instead, I am no longer okay with him avoiding my face. I step directly into his line of sight, looking up at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. Will you forgive me?" His features soften. I watch his face as he makes a show of considering my request. His free hand is already resting on the curve of my hip, his thumb caressing the skin under the hem of my shirt. He has already forgiven me, he just wants me to squirm. I give in to his silent demand. I pout, sticking my lip out and batting my eyelashes at him. He is the only one I would do that for. "Please? I'll let you choose how I make it up to you."

"That is a very tempting offer, but I will have to think about it." There is a quiet knock on the doorframe. It snaps me out of a dreamy, doe-eyed state. I step away from Cal, but he keeps ahold of my hand.

"Tyros? What can we do for you?" Like a light switch, he is all business again. A soldier, a leader, a King, my King.

"Pardon my intrusion. I need to speak with you." She looks at me as she says it. Cal lets go of fingers.

"I'll be upstairs."

"What is it, Clarisse?" I cross my arms, irritated that he is not even King yet and already, we can't find more than a few moments to be alone together.

"You, sir. Respectfully." She stands at attention, back straight, arms down. She looks tense and rigid. Cal looks her over with a scrutinizing eye; like he is trying to remember if she stood out when he was her general. "You need the backing of the Kingsguards if you are going to take control inside the city."

"I'm aware." This was a point of contention during our discussion, no one had any idea how to flush them out and unite them. There has been no showing of force by the Kingsguards in the city since the riots started.

"I'd like to go back out into the city, take control of the remaining forces."

"Do you have the clout for that?" I wince. He sounds like an ass, but it is a legitimate question. He has been away too long to know which of his soldiers are in good standing and which survived when he blew up half the palace. I nod encouragingly behind him. I do know that Clarisse is a force to be reckoned with, she is quick, clever, and loyal. If anyone can unite the Kingsguard under one banner, it will be her.

"I do, sir." She sounds confident. I feel smug.

"Then you have my support. Report back."

"I'll leave immediately." She turns on her heel and marches out.

"Clarisse." She turns back. "Be careful." When the smoke clears, and the dust settles, I will need her, that is if she is not named Captain of the guard.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Can she do it?" She is barely out of earshot when he turns back to me.

"With your name cleared, absolutely."

"That leaves your excursion into the Scarlet Guard camp down one fighter." He looks dismayed.

"It's better if I go alone. Larissa I can explain, and Dash won't be seen. It's for the better really." He still looks less than convinced. "Could you maybe trust me a little bit? Carrying your son does not make my opinion any less informed, or me any less capable of defending myself."

"I know." I find his hesitation more than a little annoying. Being pregnant doesn't make me a bystander. "This is just hard for me. It always has been, the thought of you in battle has always made me nervous and reckless. I'll get over it."

"No, you won't. But you will accept it, you always do."

"Mare, can you handle this?" His tone is gentle, he is concerned that if I fall in too deep, I will self-harm. I can't fault him for his concerns. He has known for a few days that the woman he loves has a less than stellar track record for healthy emotional processing, and to his credit, he is handling it with grace. I nod. "No, I want you to say it."

"I can handle it." I look him in the eyes as I say it. He seems to accept my answer this time. "Never stop caring about me, okay?" He looks at me with empathy.

"Never." We don't say _I love you._

* * *

Alone at last.

After Clarisse found a way to make herself useful outside the house, Dash and Larissa took the hint too. Leaving Cal and me alone for the first time since the Notch. No fever, no friends, no obligations—no one to be quiet for. Its been a week since we last had sex and the tension between us has been close to the surface all day. It's a wonder we hadn't already torn each other's clothes off.

"What?" If I didn't know any better, I would say that Cal almost sounds insecure. He noticed me watching him. He wasn't doing anything to garner my interest, just sitting on the bed, with his back against the pillows and a small notebook propped against his raised knees, writing.

"Just admiring you." He returns to his thoughts, but there is a flush rising on his neck and watches me out of the corner of his eye as I sort through lists of provisions and get both of us set for tomorrow.

He loses interest in his own thoughts when I take my hair down and shake it out. He tosses the notebook and pen away unceremoniously. I look him over before settling my gaze on his face, A cocky half-smile greets me. A silent challenge to see who gives in first. I cross my arms over my chest and return his smug air.

Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles, the storm is picking up again. Cal pulls his shirt off over his head and tosses it at my bare feet. I run my tongue over my lips and let my eyes slide over him again. His chest has always been a distraction. He rises to his knees. I glance down and back up at him. He shakes his head slowly. We are circling each other, and it is my turn to up the ante. I consider my options. I could give him skin, or I could let his imagination wander. I choose the later, uncrossing my arms and reaching one hand under my shirt and unhooking the front of my bra. I pull it out from under my shirt and let it fall to the floor. While he is distracted, studying the flimsy black lace on the floor—realizing that I had dressed for him this morning, I step closer to the end of the bed.

I watch him fiddle with the button oh his jeans his bulge makes my nipples tingle, they are already hard. The urge to touch either him or myself is hard to resist as he pulls the zipper down. It's like it can hear every tooth break open on the way down. Lightning flashes again and the room is plunged into darkness. The power must be out. Cal lights the fire.

"Wait here." He gets down off the bed and heads for the open door.

"No, I'm coming with you." He turns around.

"Just this once, could you do as I ask? Please?" I give him a hard glare but nod. While he is gone, I listen for any signs of trouble and busy myself lighting the antique gas lamps we used the first night we were here. I don't hear him at all until he is on his way back up the stairs. He comes back in carrying several lit candles that he places around the room. While his back is turned, I take my pants off. "Now, where were we?" His eyes fall on my exposed legs.

"You were on the bed, trying desperately to resist the urge to make the first move." I watch the light flicker over my lover, noticing where the shadows are growing deeper and longer. He never rebuttoned his pants. The heat from the fire pulses against my exposed legs. We stare at each other for several long seconds, when I can't stand it any longer, I launch myself at him. Cal catches me. Between kisses, I manage to gasp out "You win."

"We'll call it a draw. any longer and your clothes would be smoldering on the floor." I moan as his tongue travels down my neck to kiss me more passionately. He lays me down on the bed placing his knee between my thighs, leaning over me. I push him back.

"Take your pants off." I pull my shirt off and toss it aside, before also pulling off the panties that match my bra and tossing them at his chest. He catches the damp ball of lace with a satisfied smirk. I watch his eyes travel down my naked body. Feeling the gentle pulse of his heat. "What?"

"Just admiring you." The feel of his skin against mine is my first hint of the ecstasy to come. The feel of his hands, the touch of his lips, the weight of his body; all of it thrills me in ways that would make even the most brazen harlot blush. I close my eyes and let him have his way. I don't even try to keep quiet. I want him to hear what he does to me. My head rolls while he amuses himself with my body.

I open my eyes when I feel his heat leave my skin. He is lying beside me looking at me while he pleasures himself. I push gently against his shoulder until he lies on his back. I straddle his torso, intent on giving him the same pleasure he has given me, building the tension until we have to have each other. Before I even start, Cal takes ahold of my hips and lifts me, setting me down so that my knees are on either side of his head. His tongue immediately snakes out and caresses my clit. I lean forward and grab the headboard.

Unlike his brother, who is all speed, Cal is deliberate in the way he moves. How much pressure he uses, when and where to suck. Maven wanted me to scream for him, to satisfy his ego. But Cal, he writes a love letter between my thighs, spelling out the way he feels about me with his lips and tongue. When I start to squirm from the intensity of the pleasure, he locks his arm around my shaking thighs clasping his hands in front of my pelvis. I won't be able to move my hips until he has crossed all his T's, dotted all of his I's, and sealed his letter with a kiss.

When he lays me back down, my head is light from quick and shallow breathing and my throat dry from moaning and screaming.

"That was... I wish I had colors to swear with." He nibbles at my earlobe.

"You have mine." With his confession, he finally penetrates me, pushing his entire length into me slowly, filling me completely. For just a moment, he stays very still, watching my eyes. I reach up pressing every inch of skin I can against him. Begging him to give himself to me. I lie back and ride the waves of bliss as he moves. He never stops touching, finding ways to heighten my pleasure. Tonight, his love lacks urgency, and the fervent need to be close, to prove that I am here, and he has me. Tonight, our love feels like we have always been, and we always will be—infinite, inevitable.

The storm outside is interrupted by flashes of purple. The thunder rolls in waves, like a call and response, mine overhead, and the heart of the storm a few miles to the East still. The hot, dry air sparks with every movement. The static pops and bursts into spiraling flames before fizzling out again.

I tangle my hands up in his hair and pull him into me. My name drips off his tongue like warm honey. It rolls off my skin and gets lost in the sheets; his is little more than a breathy sigh swallowed by the ether. He pulls my hand out of his hair and wraps his fingers around mine, pinning my arm over my head. I don't struggle because he avoids my wrist. He knows the ins and outs of my quirks, where he can and can't touch me.

"Cal?" It is a testament to his concentration that he managed to tell the difference between my exhilarated whines for his affection and a gasping rasp of a question. He slows down allowing me to breathe a little easier.

"Yes, Mare?" He sounds breathless but happy. He is the fire that burns in my soul.

"Stop." He stops immediately, pulling out and letting go of me. The look on his face suggests a fear that he had done something to hurt me. I sit up push him back into the pillows and straddle him. "Lie back, my King. And allow your queen to please you." He laces his fingers behind his head as he watches me make my way down his body with my mouth.

"I am already more than pleased, my Queen." He sucks in a hard breath as my lips close around the head of his penis. I take my time on him, reacting to every sound he lets escape his lips. I use both my hands to keep him engaged and aroused. "You are—mmmm—That feels incredible." He looks at me with more than lust in his eyes. Even while watching me pleasure him, he manages to look at me like I am his reason for being. "Come back up here and kiss me." I beckon him forward to meet met halfway. Our hands are all over each other while I ride him, but his eyes never leave mine. The emotional connection is almost too much for me. I have never felt anything like it. I want to scream and cry and laugh all at once. The orgasm on it heels radiates through my entire body. My fingers and toes tingle, my head feels light and fuzzy, my heart races while I scream, holding my thighs tight around him. He finishes just after I do, and we collapse into the pillows together.

The storm outside dies as I come down from my high, fading into a gentle rain. I lie there quietly trying to distract myself from how I feel with mundane lists and planning what I am going to say to Davidson, but it is useless. My thoughts circle back to the man next to me every few minutes. He kisses my temple.

"Give me one of your sparks." I don't hesitate. I watch with fascination as he pulls the little arc of electricity from my finger and spins it into a small whirl of fire, expanding it so he can play with it, shape it to his whims. He has never shown me any interest in anything artistic that he couldn't build with his hands. He draws it out into a long thin line and draws me a rose. He forces heat into it until it turns white and burns brighter than any other flame in the room. It's dazzling to watch.

"How long have you been practicing that?" It dances down into his hand where he extinguishes it.

"A while." He twists a lock of my hair around his fingers. "If this works, it's going to take a while to stabilize the government, perhaps years." The abrupt change in subject catches me off guard. I nod. I don't trust my voice not to sound upset if I open my mouth. "I know you don't want to be in the spotlight, you are done being a revolutionary and a rebel." I nod again. "I can't ask you to be that for me. You've given your life for mine too many times. Not anymore—not this time." His voice catches in his throat.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying if you want to leave I won't stop you. I'll find you when It is safe to do so." The words are colored with abject sadness. I wonder how long it took him to work up the nerve to say them out loud. Even if he thought the safest place for his little family is tucked away from the strife in some remote corner of an allied country, he would hate the idea of his son not having one of his parents. He wouldn't want his son to grow up the way he did.

"No." I sound angry, but I don't move my head off his shoulder or pull my arms from around his middle. I am fully invested in cuddling with him even if we are going to argue.

"No, what?"

"No, I'm not leaving. I won't let Cade grow up not knowing his father." I use one finger to turn his face to look me in the eyes. I need him to know how serious I am when I say this. "You're right, I don't want to be in the spotlight, I did my part to change the world, and I am done, but I am not done standing by you or helping you fight your battles. If you want to keep me safe and out of the fray, send me to Ocean Hill, but you will not banish me to a life without you." I keep my voice low if only to avoid yelling.

"As you wish, my Queen." He still doesn't sound happy. I turn my face up and kiss his cheek before I disentangle myself from him. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I pull his shirt over my head. His sent wraps around me. It's the only reason I take his clothes. He watches me, toeing the thin line of being annoyed at never being able to find a shirt to wear and aroused at seeing me wear them.

"Calling you my Queen." I told him that I didn't want a pet name, and this one should stir my blood. Maven used it foolishly, but Cal uses it with conviction.

"I don't mind that one, so long as you keep it for yourself." The best I get is a quick nod and a hint of a smile that pulls on his lips. It seems that I am slowly convincing him that I didn't choose to be with him out of sacrifice, but out of love.


	21. Little Secrets

**Cal's POV**

I wake to the sound of hushed voices. I leave my eyes closed, listening intently. It was Dash's voice that woke me. The baritone is rich and difficult to keep in hushed tones. He is talking to a woman, but I don't figure out which one until I reach for Mare, only to find her missing. The sheets are still warm where she slept. I roll over and grab my watch off the bedside table. My eyes are blurry, and the firelight is dying, but I don't have the motivation to do anything about either. _4:45, perfect._ I was going to get up in fifteen minutes anyway. I sit up and scrub my hands over my face. Standing, I glance around for a clean shirt to put on. I have no luck. Instead, I grab one from the pile of laundry nearby. It smells like magnolias, like her. I pull it over my head.

She left the door cracked when she went out into the hall. It doesn't make a sound when I pull it open. I am not trying to be quiet, but neither of them notices me. I lean against the doorframe and wait. It's dark, but I watch them together. They remind me of Evangeline and Elaine, that is before they started sneaking off together to make out. When we were little, they always had their heads together whispering about one thing or another. Usually plotting how to terrorize the other kids and the servants. The day they put a snake into one of the servant girl's baskets causing her to run screaming from the room and straight into Elara, I thought the vein in Volos neck was going to burst.

As I watch her, I imagine her in her life before I derailed it. It doesn't take a genius to figure out the Kilorn was in love with her or to see that their relationship was never the same after she insisted on pulling me out of the arena with her. I imagine them together, thick as literal thieves. I wish I had had the chance to know her then. Had I taken the time, gone back to the tavern instead of yanking her out of her life, I could have fallen in love with a thief rather than a rebel.

Either way, it would still be illegal for us to marry. Blood mixing isn't just looked upon with disdain; it is still technically punishable by death. No one has been executed for it in over a century, but the law still exists to my knowledge. Hopefully, my little brother had started laying the groundwork for changing the law before he maneuvered Mare into a position to kill the reigning Queen. Wouldn't it be a fitting twist of the knife for me to marry the object of my brother's obsession on the foundation he laid to marry her himself?

I wonder how Mare would feel if she knew that my original motivation to reclaim my title was to marry her; that the idea of changing the law so that I could be with her tipped the scales of my decision. It was a thought that Nanabel put in my ear. I harbored a secret hope, that when all was said and done, the government stabilized, and the rebellion resolved, I could find her and convince her to come home to me. She just had to see me be a King of which she could be proud.

She turns around presumably to sneak back to bed, but she stops short.

"I was just coming to wake you." I step aside when she reaches me, letting her pass and pushing the door closed behind her. "You didn't have to eavesdrop you know? We would have included you had you spoken up." I shrug.

"I wasn't listening." She looks skeptical but diverts her attention to preparing herself for her mission. Everything about her is soft this morning, her tone, her edges, the way she moves. She even seems to have a gentle glow around her features. It's beautiful; she's beautiful.

Neither of us says anything while we go through our respective routines. I don't even have to watch her; I know her movements. I know that she never does the same thing I am doing; if I do push-ups, she does sit-ups. That way, I would have to stop mid-set to critique her form, posture, or breathing. It's clever; I'll give her that. Were I optimistic, I'd even say she's become quite the regimented soldier. I'd love it if she didn't have to be, but I adore her all the same. It isn't until we are both set to meet everyone else downstairs that she speaks again.

"You are quiet this morning. Where is your head, my King?" I put my hands on the smallest part of her waist and kiss her quickly; we have a schedule to keep, and anything more would make us late.

"With you. As always." She rises up onto her toes to kiss me again, but I stop her at great personal restraint. "We have somewhere to be." I pull the door open for her, letting her stalk past me. She's pouting, and I will be damned if it isn't the cutest thing I've seen in a full year. I watch her ponytail bounce and swing with every step. She is in a good mood this morning, even if she is sulking. I follow her down the stairs at a distance. I need to focus today; I'm hoping the separation will help keep my head clear. Even as I try to put her from my mind, I catch myself watching her hips move as she walks. I shake it off and enter the kitchen almost a full minute after she had.

She pushes a full cup of coffee into my hands. She thinks she doesn't know how to anticipate my needs; she told me as much while we were both ill. She has no idea that she proves herself wrong every day. It is the little things that no one else has ever done for me without being paid to do so. I have never been as close to anyone as I am to her now; no one knows me better. I take the cup from her, along with the smile. I sit down at the counter to wait for Dash and Larissa, sipping my coffee. She put too much sugar in it, but I'm not going to complain. I pay little attention to what she is doing while I stare into my mug, combing through every possible way today could go. I am surprised when she sets a plate down in front of me.

"I had no idea you could cook." A modest breakfast, but it smells good.

"Hold your judgment until you taste it. You might change your mind." I break the yolk of one of the eggs; so far, so good. "I know how to make maybe two things that probably won't kill you." I can't tell if she is exaggerating or not. I take the risk and taste the food. She doesn't give herself enough credit. It's better than camp food, and it's fresh. She hands Dash a plate as he comes in from outside. He tosses a newspaper down and digs in. Larissa is the last to arrive and only picks at her food. When I'm finished, I look up at Mare. She is standing against the opposite counter, reading the front page of the newspaper. I cross the kitchen and deliberately reach around her to put my plate in the sink. I notice a slice of toast with maybe two bites out of it abandoned on the stove. When I pull my hand back, I lay it on her waist and lean in close to her.

"You need to eat more than a few bites of toast." I keep my voice quiet. I don't want to sound like I am scolding her. I just want what's best for her.

"My stomach is too upset." She keeps reading, following my example too well for my taste now that I would like her to assuage my concerns.

"Are you alright? Do you need—"

"I'm going. It's morning sickness; it'll pass." She finally looks at me, a touch of scorn in her eyes.

"—anything to settle your stomach?" She narrows her eyes at me, suspicious that I am just covering. She's right. I want her to stay here, but she has already put me in my place. Larissa sets two plates in the sink pulling my attention away from the gorgeous brown eyes in front of me. Mare also looks away.

"There is ginger tea in your pack. I put honey in it this time; it should taste better today." Larissa sounds cheerful this morning.

"Thank you." Mare pushes me away, tossing the paper back onto the counter. "Shall we?" Everyone is silent as we file out towards the foyer where all the gear sits waiting. I am the last one out. I snag an apple and put it in her bag while her back is turned. Larissa gives me an approving look.

"We should split up. Pairs are less conspicuous than a group, especially this early." I nod, Dash is right.

Larissa and I exit through the back door while Mare and Dash head around to the side. I was hoping to hear from Evangeline before we left, but there has been no sign of her on either side of the wall for a couple of days. Mare would be furious if she knew that I had been in contact with her after she left the safe house, that I knew she was running her own scheme to prove her worthiness to be Queen of The Rift. Evangeline gave me her word that she wouldn't interfere with any of my plans, but that was before when she thought I was leaving. It is a long shot, but Tyros was sent out last night with instructions to find Eve and fill her in. I can only hope that this doesn't blow up in my face.

"Can I be blunt for a moment?" The request catches me off guard. Neither of us has said anything since we left the house almost twenty minutes ago.

"Are you going to lay out everything I am doing wrong with Mare?" I don't look at her, instead choosing to keep scanning the street for anything out of the ordinary. There aren't a lot of people milling about right now; Ideal for picking out suspicious people, but not so much for hiding in plain sight.

"I could if you want me to, but no. I was going to say that I'm glad you two have each other. You make each other better. Be careful with her though, Mare is strong, but she can and will break." There is genuine concern in her voice; I appreciate her more for it.

"You can say it. She told me what she did." Larissa breathes a heavy sigh of relief. I wonder what she has been holding back and for how long.

"And how are you handling it?" It's odd to have someone that isn't Mare asking after my well-being. It makes me question whether I would still consider the people I knew as a Prince my friends.

"I don't know." The instances in which I feel powerless are few and far between but are getting more frequent the closer I get to Mare. My love for her makes me vulnerable.

"I've never heard you admit that before."

"Yeah, well, I was raised to be fairly arrogant, so..."

"See? She makes you a better person." We arrive at the smokehouse before Dash and Mare. "I'll tell you the same thing I told her, I'm an excellent listener."

"I'll take that under advisement." I pull the door open for her and follow her down the stairs into the salt cellar. "Would you like me to wait with you until they get here? Its unlikely anyone will find you, but I am happy to stay."

"I don't need you to stay, but it's your funeral if you don't." She perches on top of a large barrel labeled _brine_ and looks around the cellar. The windows set into the wells provide little light. They are grimy, so even if it were mid-day, the light in here would still be gloomy. She digs out a flashlight. I look at her, and for a moment, I can see Sara in her features. Even though her father is Sara's brother, I couldn't really see the resemblance until now.

"Mare would be fine if I went on ahead. She'd be mad, but she would understand." I pull the shelf that hides the entrance to the tunnel away from the wall. I motion for Larissa to hand me the light and shine it down the passage. Everything is wet from yesterdays storm. There will be water pooled in the deepest parts of the tunnel, probably knee deep.

"That may have been the case before, but she isn't herself right now. Everything she feels is amplified. All the feelings she used to push away until it was convenient to feel them, are on the surface now." Larissa isn't wrong. Mare is more emotional now, less predictable; her moods turn more quickly than wind in the hands of a weaver.

"Be that as it may, she isn't one for sentimental goodbyes." My thoughts stray back to the clearing where she left me a couple of months ago. _We don't say goodbye._ Those words go on the list right between we don't say I love you and we don't separate in battle unless we have to. "That is more my thing." Larissa almost smiles at me.

I hear the smokehouse door and put my finger to my lips, signaling for Larissa to be quiet. The cellar door pulls open, but no one descends with the footfalls on the creaky stairs. I relax. Waiting for mare and Dash to reveal themselves. A few seconds later, a small hand slides into the back pocket of my pants and squeezes. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting.

"You are no fun at all this morning." Mare and Dash appear as she speaks. Dash is covering silent laughter while Mare scowls at me.

"Come on, let's give them a second to say goodbye. Larissa jumps down from the barrel and pulls Dash into the passage.

"Be careful, please. Don't draw attention to yourself until you are inside the camp." I nod, running my thumbs over the backs of her hands. "Come home to me. Tonight." Her eyes are round and glassy. Her lips taste like ginger and honey when they meet mine. They feel like warm silk.

"Stay safe, Mare, my Queen." There are ten thousand ways to tell her that I love her without using those words.

* * *

Except for echoing footfalls, endless dripping, and the occasional splash of water, the trek through the tunnels is quiet and uneventful. We even manage to circumvent the deepest waters. I split off from the group, heading west while they continued south. Letting go of Mare's hand proved harder than I thought it would. I have always been able to separate myself from my feelings for the sake of a mission, but this time was more difficult than all the others combined. It felt more like the end than the beginning, like surrendering.

Once I am on my own, I run. It's only a few miles to the edge of Nanabel's camp, and sooner I get there, the sooner I can get back to the city, to her. The officers at the camp entrance are not standing at rapt attention they way they should be. Both men wear Carros colors, strongarm who rely on their strength instead of dexterity. I could easily dispatch the pair and slip in unnoticed, but the commotion that will raise when I am discovered will make me lose precious time. Instead, I approach in full view, with my head down and my hands in my pockets. I am within ten yards of the camp when one of them finally calls for me to stop and identify myself. I do stop, but I say nothing. I pull both hands out of the pockets of my jacket and show them to the guards before lifting my head and pulling my hood back. Both men drop to a knee.

"Take me to Anabel, immediately." The soldiers usher me through the gate, apologizing profusely for not recognizing me on sight. They both receive a quick reprimand for neglecting their post and allowing me to get too close to camp. I was close enough to cause significant damage before either deigned it necessary to confront me. My soldiers have gotten lax in my absence.

Anabel's assistant escorts me through camp. She looks at home in her field headquarters. She sat on more war councils than my grandfather did, so I am not even surprised to see her in tactical gear refamiliarizing herself with city plans.

"Leave us." No one hesitates. As far as they are concerned, I am their king and commander. Before I left her family estate, I had started training a new batch of soldiers for this faction. I drilled them as mercilessly as I would have my Shadow Legion but left their training incomplete so I could get to Mare. My grandmother greets me with a warm smile as they file out of the only door.

"What a pleasant surprise, my grandson has returned to the fold." I disregard the hint of antagonism in her words. I know she thinks me foolish for going after one little red girl, she has since I told her that I was in love with one.

"I did what I intended to do, and now I am prepared to take back my throne." She looks at me as though she is trying to decide if I am truthful.

"And what is it that you did?" The words are slow to leave her mouth. I level my gaze at her. The hardness of forged steel finds its way into my demeanor, overtaking even my voice.

"The King is dead. Long live the King." The color drains from her face. Even though she plotted to overthrow Maven and install me on the throne, he was still her grandson. There was always affection in her heart for the little boy that could have been a good man had Elara not interfered.

"You caused the mayhem in the city? When they announced the Bloodtrial, I assumed you ran off with that wretched girl again." I bite back the angry retort on my lips. I can't defend her if I want Nanabel to believe me. She has to believe that Mare and I have split for good. "Where is she, Cal?"

"I assume you mean Mare and not Evangeline?" I have to stare at the coat of arms behind her to keep my voice even.

"Yes, the red girl with which you were unfortunately infatuated Where is she?" I glance at the plans on the table between us. They are out of date and do not include the evacuation tunnels.

"She escaped Whitefire in the chaos; evading even Evangeline. She hasn't been found. I assume she is back with the Scarlet Guard." I pause for a moment as if a thought were occurring to me in this moment. "Speaking of, that is a nuisance we need to quell if I am to take control." She smiles at me.

"Welcome back, your Majesty." She bows her head, but there is no reverence in it. I have done everything she wanted of me, and now, she believes me to be a puppet whose strings she can pull at her leisure.

* * *

 **Mare's POV**

Cal clings to my fingers a little longer than he should. I hate the idea of splitting up and hate what he is about to do even more, but we have to keep up appearances, or this plan will fall apart. As the rest of us approach the camp, I make a quick alteration to the plan. I pay a little red boy to deliver a message to the posted guards and settle in to wait. Almost twenty-five minutes, Kilorn relieves the guard that had been posted at the front mid-shiftI had been hoping for one of the electicons or one of my brothers even, but Kilorn is the better choice; that had to have been Farley.

I give it a little time before I approach. If Larissa or Dash is getting impatient or restless, neither of them lets on. Both are quiet while we wait. I turn to them.

"Are you both still okay with this? If not, now is the time." They both give me small nods. "Okay, let's go." Dash disappears, and Larissa falls into step just behind me. "Stay close and follow my lead." The three of us approach from the northeast. Kilorn catches sight of us as soon as we break the tree line. I let my hood down and send sparks into the air. I let them go just high enough to be seen over the low walls before pulling them back to the ground. My oldest friend waves us forward.

You are the worst kind of friend. You know that right? Running off without telling anyone, again." I let him pull me into a hug.

"It's good to see you too." I allow myself a moment to feel happy to see my friend before diving headfirst into my mission.

"You know, there are easier ways to get back at your ex than running off to be with his psychotic little brother." He has no idea how severely that joke cuts me. But he did offer me a clue about what information Davidson and the council are spreading.

"Is he here?" I was trying to sound like I don't want to see him, but my voice just comes out like a tangle of several emotions. Kilorn pulls away but throws a loose arm around my shoulders and leads me into the camp.

"No." I look up hoping that my face doesn't betray me. "He left right after you did. No one in command has said anything about it, but after what happened in Corvium, I assumed he is with that Lerolan broad. Good riddance to bad blood, I say." Kilorn never did know when to shut up. "Who's your friend? Or is she your prisoner?"

"This is Larissa. She is Sara's niece and the reason I am alive." I glance back at her. She looks wary. I can't tell if it's an act or not. I assume not. "Is any of my family here?" Before he can answer my question, we are intercepted by Farley and Davidson.

"Miss Barrow, glad to have you back, alive and well. The council is eager to hear your report. Shall we?" He moves to motion me through the camp, but I don't move.

"Before I do anything, I would like to reunite miss Skonos with her aunt. It is the least we can do for her considering the risk she took to keep me alive." Farley nods to Davidson, who eventually gives in. I can only assume they are hoping I will slip up and give something away to Julian and Sara.

"Very well then. This way." He leads us through camp to the south end. I catch sight of Julian, who has his nose in a book and smile on his face. Sarah spots us first. She wraps Larissa in a tight embrace.

"I've missed you little Lark." Larissa starts to cry. She told me in one of our appointments that Sara taught her to sing when she was very young. Sara had called her Lark after the bright singing bird. She also told me that she hadn't had the heart to sing since Elara mutilated her aunt.

Julian on the other hand, eyes Davidson and holds his hand out to me like he expects me to shake it. I cross my arms over my chest and look at him with disbelief, glancing down at his hand and back up at his face. He smiles weakly before holding his hands up in surrender. He gives me a quick hug. Mine and Cal's turbulent patch hadn't affected my regard for Julian and Sara. She hugs me next. When she pulls away, there is a look on her face that I can't quite place; it's like hope and sympathy twisted together. She knows. I put as much pleading into my face as I can, she gets the message. _Please, Sara, don't say anything._

"We should catch up later after you finish your official business." Her hands clasp mine, and she squeezes before she lets me go.

"I'll come around when I can. Is it okay if I leave Larissa with you?" Julian gives a nod. Farley puts an arm around me, but her eyes bore into Kilorn.

"Don't you have a post to be at?" For a small woman, she is commanding. I've always admired that about her, begrudgingly.

"Yes, ma'am." He turns on his heel and leaves. The Guard might turn him into a proper soldier yet.

"It was nice to see you two again." She gives Julian and Sara a polite nod which they return. It's all very curt and buttoned up. Something serious happened after I left. Farley steers me away. "To answer your question, your family is not here."

"I suppose that is for the better. How are you and Clara doing?"

"She is happy as a clam with your mother and Gisa. You won't believe how big she is when you see her." There is unmistakable pride in her voice. Clara is her joy. I press down on the grief over Shade that wells up talking about his daughter. Memories of my brother sear my conscience. I am responsible for his death, and I will never forgive myself.

* * *

The silence in the council tent is tense. I can feel it on my skin. I am not afraid of them; I looked Maven in the eye while a whisper went on a rampage in my head. The only thing I fear now is losing my son and his father to the same fight that lost me Shade. The question me for two hours about my time in Whitefire, about the Bloodtrial, and Maven's assassination.

"Where is Tiberias Calore?" The man that addresses me has a pinched and wrinkled face. He looks like a golden raisin in military garb.

"With Anabel Lerolan, I presume. I haven't seen him in two months." I keep my answers short and try not to stray too far from the truth. I know he is with Anabel today.

"She claims he disappeared over a week ago. He and the Samos girl haven't been seen since." I shrug.

"There were reports that they were seen inside Archeon before the bloodtrial."

"Reports?" The old man narrows his eyes at me. I can't tell if they are even open anymore.

"Maven accused me of collusion, but I hadn't been in contact, direct or otherwise with either of them." I fix my gaze on the raisin man, he seems to be the most interested in Cal's whereabouts.

"Who assassinated the King?" This time it is a white-haired woman whose name I never bothered to learn.

"I haven't the slightest idea. I assumed it was someone from the Guard." Farley sits forward in her chair.

"Why would you assume that?" she and Davidson are the only two in the room that do not address me with hostility.

"Because someone loyal to Volo Samos or Anabel Lerolan would have shot me alongside Maven." The statement is met with an air of skepticism. They all think that I place too much importance on myself. It is Davidson that steps up on my behalf.

"She is right. This girl wields a remarkable amount of power when it comes to shaping the outcome of this rebellion. If she stands in the way of Tiberias VII, he will yield to his feelings for her or at the very least falter." He looks around the room making eye-contact with each member of the council. It is a tactic he often uses to win support.

"How did the media get ahold of the former King's confession?" This time it is a red-faced man who looks like one of the Walruses from my early school textbooks.

"I don't know."

"Who blew up the Palace?"

"I don't know."

"What's going on inside the city?"

"Rioting. Children are scrambling to gain the upper hand. The Kingsguard is nowhere to be found." The exchange is quick. I don't have time between the rapid-fire questions to address each asker between them. I am starting to get frustrated. "Do none of you see what is happening?" They all look at me with questioning looks, everyone but Farley. Her shrewd eyes study me.

"You think all of this is Cal." Her eyes are narrowed. The cunning behind the plan reads like Cal, but I know how he thinks better than anyone else. He may be an excellent tactician, but Anabel is a war hammer.

"No. I think it's Anabel." I keep my voice and my gaze level.

"What proof do you have?" The walrus is too demanding. It is irritating me. I glare at him as I answer. My voice takes on a defensive tone.

"I don't. But I have met and interacted with every player on the board. No one else can say that." I see Davidson nod out of the corner of my eye.

"We have Julian Jacos." It is the white-haired woman.

"An uncooperative pacifist? We may as well start shooting blindly." Farley scoffs. Something did happen.

"Take my advice or don't. That's not my call. If you are through interrogating me, I'd like to leave." I cross my arms over my chest and sit back in my chair. My patience has worn very thin, and I am hungry. Farley gives me a hard look. I may have tipped my hand to her in admitting that something is not my call. She knows that I don't give up control easily and I can't stand it when people don't take me seriously.

"Let's adjourn for now; we can discuss this further after miss Barrow settles in." I round on Farley. She may mean well, but my agitation is making me hypersensitive.

"I'm not settling in anywhere. I'm going back into the city." I stare at my fingernails while I say it; perfectly disinterested any other opinion that will be given on the subject.

"That is out of the question; you could be captured or killed." It is the first time the young man in the corner has spoken. I don't recall having seen him before today. He looks like a politician.

"By who? None of you have made an incursion into the Capitol, the people could care less where I am, and the Silver Elite that are still in there watched me kill their Queen at Bloodtrial; rather brutally if I do say so myself." The flat tone in my voice unsettles even me. I double down and take a page from Davidson, leveling my gaze at each council member as I speak. Farley glares at me with steel in her eyes while Davidson's face is blank.

"You would agree to spy for us?" I nod at Davidson. "Then you will return to the city tonight." Davidson stands. "We will reconvene at two o'clock." He strides out of the room without another word. Farley waits until the other council members have filed out before she rounds on me.

"What's going on with you? You're like a different person." She has never been one to hold back or beat around the bush. I think that is why Shade loved her.

"I changed. People change, Farley." She gives me that same look she always has, scrutiny with a hint of dislike. "Look this last stint as Maven's pet changed me. I'm tired, and I want this to end."

"We all feel that way. Everyone is tired and wants to win." There is contempt in her voice. I'm sure that to her, it sounds like I am giving up and making Shade's death meaningless.

"Yeah, but all of you haven't been personally tortured and abused by the hand of a sociopathic child King. Twice." She looks at me with sympathy. "Diana, he broke me. I was..." I can't say the words. They are too close to the truth. I glance up at her. I have never seen her at a loss for words. "Can I leave now?" All she gives me is a nod. I push myself away from the table and throw the tent flaps aside, storming out into the camp like a child.

I twist my way through the city of tents and gear until I find my way back to Julian and Sara. I take a moment to rearrange my face before I approach them. The weight of my situation is pressing hard on my shoulders. My thoughts stray to the quickest way to find some peace, even if it is only for a moment. I have to un-ball my fists. My fingernails have bitten into the skin of my palms. I push away the shame and smile. Sara meets me outside, linking her arm through mine and patting my hand.

"Larissa is talking history with Julian. Let's go for a walk." I nod and let her lead me away. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I can't. I can't tell anyone." She waits silently until I can't stand it anymore. I can't keep it to myself any longer. "We found each other again." I pull the ring off my finger and hold it up. "He gave me this." Her eyes go wide.

"Coriane's wedding ring." Her voice turns wistful. "I searched for this for months after her death, where did he find it?"

"I don't know. He's been looking for traces of her, but everything he finds makes him feel like he would disappoint her. I don't know how to help him." I put the ring back on. She looks at my hands knowingly. She understands why our commitment to each other is so understated.

"That's easy, Tibe hid everything of Coriane's at Ocean Hill. He couldn't stand to look at it after she left us. He should have done better for his son, but he was never the same." I don't have the heart to tell her that Maven stripped Coriane's colors from Ocean Hill. "I loved Coriane like she was my sister. With you tempering the blade, she would be so proud of her little boy." The two of us let the words settle in silence between us. "Are you avoiding telling me about the baby for a reason? Is it too much to hope that—" The abrupt subject change doesn't surprise me, I expected her to ask sooner or later.

"Oh, no. My little prince is the heir to the rightful King." She looks relieved and happy and hopeful. "Please, don't tell anyone. It hurts my heart to say this but, not even Julian. I've trusted him with my life but is better if he doesn't have to lie." By this point, I am holding back tears.

"Of course not, it is not my news to share. You two should tell him when you are ready and excited." We have almost made a complete circle. The campsite is in view. "He'll be thrilled."

"I'm terrified." It slips out before I consider the consequences. "We're too young, and everything is so uncertain."

"All first-time parents are terrified. But I have seen you together. The love is there, everything else will follow." She stops and pushes the hair out of my face, a very maternal act. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so happy for you." She smiles at me. I am strangely comforted by her use of a familiar pet name. She gives the vague impression that she considers me part of her extended family—her best friend's daughter by way of love, not political gain. "I wish I could do more for you and Cal." I return her smile.

"Putting my mind at ease is more than enough." Sara's gestures make me miss my mother. "Thank you, Sara. I mean that, truly." I let her embrace me, pretending that it is my mother.

"When do you and Larissa leave again?"

"Before nightfall. Sara, there is something you need to know." I give Sara enough of our plan to convince her to help. She is the best way to get to Cameron. She has to sew the seeds of suspicion. Especially if I can't get to Ella, Rafe or Tyton before all Hell breaks loose.


End file.
